


This Circus We're in

by SillyBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Organized Hunting, Vessel Fic, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ending his short career as a trainee Hunter, Dean thinks that he is over and done with the “family business.” But something new and big lures him back to the Supernatural Research and Prevention Institute. He doesn’t want to return to that dangerous life and he certainly doesn’t want have to live up to his father’s impossible expectations again. But what could he possibly do when a monster, claiming to be an angel, asks for his help? </p>
<p>An AU where demons, monsters and ghosts are widely known and hunted by official organizations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Graceful Dispossession

**Author's Note:**

> I like those kind of AU stories that still focus on the supernatural world in some way or another, so I wanted to write one!
> 
> The warnings probably make this sound darker than it is; both gender dysphoria (if I use the term incorrectly please inform me!) and past trauma are only hinted at. Past trauma incorporates mentions of violence against a child/ teenager and witnessing torture.
> 
> This story has various POVs and in Castiel's he's referred to with female pronouns.
> 
> On the pairing; it boils down to Destiel in a variety of forms. Dean/Cas is the main pairing, but both Dean/Jimmy and Michael/Castiel are implied.
> 
> Title taken from Tori Amos' song "Spark". Thanks to Esmerod for beta-ing!! ♥

**_Prolog_ **

****

_„This is the fourth case of a professional Hunt gone wrong this year. A spokesman of the Supernatural Research and Prevention institute confirmed that the incident occurred on an out of schedule Hunt.”_

“Kate!”

_“Casualties have not yet been confirmed, but supposedly there was at least one Psychic injured. The case has raised new protests about-“_

“Damn, where are my – _Kate_!!” The news report continued in the background of the living room, even when the young man hurried out of it, pulling on his leather jacket and patting his pockets with an annoyed scowl. Its sounds carried into the entrance hall and down the corridor of the ground floor.

_“- is being made into a political issue due to the elections. ‘Clearly, we need stronger laws controlling Hunting, even if it’s conducted by the SRP. Maybe_ especially _if it’s the SRP. The reckless behavior of Hunters and associates puts not only them, but also the population at large at risk’ says Illinois-“_

“Dean? What are you shouting about?” Kate peeked out of the study down the hall, her face changing from confusion to worry when she saw the young man pulling out car keys from another jacket on the rack. Dean looked up, his face pulled into a frown.

“You heard the news?” he asked, watching Kate come into the hall, crossing her arms over her chest when she approached.

“About the accident over in Illinois?” she wondered cautiously, biting her lips, “yes. It was on the radio too. They didn’t say what happened though…” Her eyes fell on the bag that Dean nervously kept nudging with his boots. She felt like telling him off about wearing his work boots inside, but only managed a defeated sigh. “Dean…”

“Dad sent a text, he wants me over in Kansas,” he told her before she could complain. The slight disappointment was still visible in her eyes when she shook her head at Dean, but Dean didn’t feel like letting himself be deterred. “Must be big.”

“Dean, you know I don’t like it when you bring this stuff up. John should know better than to involve you.” Dean suppressed a groan, because she knew exactly where this conversation was headed. _You’ve been through enough. You’re not a Hunter. Stay where you are safest._ They’d talked about it enough, he should best cut it short. He lifted the bag up, shouldering it with an almost challenging expression in his eyes. Kate didn’t rise to it, which he should have expected.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he promised and Kate’s shoulders sagged. Dean didn’t feel that good about this victory. He pulled her into a quick hug, then he opened the door. “I’ll give you a call when I get there.”

“Adam will be quite disgruntled when he finds you gone,” Kate warned, but she smiled at him, shaking her head again. Dean grinned and shrugged.

“He’ll live,” he assured her, then he walked out and onto the driveway where his Dad’s old car – his car now – was parked. He tossed the bag inside and got behind the wheel. He waved at Kate when he pulled out of the driveway. He took his mobile phone out of his pocket and couldn’t help the loop-sided, humorless grin that made its way onto his face when he looked at the message.

“You know exactly what happened, don’t you,” he asked no one.

_Dean. We caught something big._  
Not sure what, but it burns out eyes.  
I need you here, the more Hunters the better.  
I’ll see you in Lawrence

Dean tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

“You knew that I’d bite,” Dean said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. While his home got smaller in the rearview mirror, Dean thought about all the arguments he’d probably get himself into just by getting closer to this whole stupid Hunting business.

 

**Chapter 1: A Graceful Dispossession**

When the kids back in school had talked about their encounters with monsters and ghosts, it was mostly stories about how they’ve visited one of the Supernatural Research Exhibitions, caught glimpses of an Undine in a water tank or a Vampire sipping blood from a flute. Dean sneered at the boring stuff at the monster zoos and proudly told them how he hadn’t seen anything yet. His Mom took care of not letting anything come close to him and he bragged about Devils’ Traps and Hex Bags when others speculated on the possibility of their new teacher being a Rugaru.

In high school Dean would show off a small scar he had received when he accidentally crossed path with a ghost when he was fourteen before his father got it. A broken arm was all he could show off, which was more in terms of supernatural related injuries than most other kids had, but coming from a family of Hunters Dean thought that there should be more. At least more exposure, he didn’t care much for the pain of broken bones.

Dean didn’t know that if he went further than skin-deep, there was a mark that separated him from almost all other human beings. He didn’t remember that one time he was twelve and at the mercy of a creature, ancient and powerful. He didn’t know that it had watched him, silently studying and contemplating. Dean didn’t know that his Reaper had passed him by.

 

* * *

 

Dean felt that ever since his family had broken up and rearranged itself, Lawrence wouldn’t be home again. His father’s new apartment was an organized mess, with notes attached to every surface. Dean couldn’t even make out enough empty spaces to figure out what color the walls were. He dropped his bag into the small guest room, determined to get his own place soon. He wasn’t planning on staying long, he didn’t think it was particularly healthy to stay cooped up with his dad in this tiny space for an extended period of time. Or at least Kate and his mom shared that opinion. He didn’t want to hear Sam’s take on the subject, quite sure it would be on the verge between telling him he was crazy and trying to do some psychological feelings talk with him. And Dean really wasn’t in the mood for more concerned tones when his mother’s weary voice still echoed in his ears.

So here he was, back in Lawrence with nothing more than a bag with few possessions and dad’s request to get involved again. But Dean wouldn’t. He had promised his mom.  

“I’m out,” he told the silence of John’s apartment. The responding quiet did nothing to calm his nerves and he shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “Aw, shit,” he hissed towards the general direction of notes about demons fixed to what might once have been a painting. He picked up his keys and the ID for the SRP office, then he left, slamming the door for good measure.

 

* * *

 

John Winchester, head of the SRP Kansas branch, specialized in demons. Lore, research, examinations, hunts, exorcisms. Whatever it needed to understand how they worked, so they could best get rid of them again. After a dozen years in this business he knew quite a bit about demons.

But that _thing_ … That wasn’t one and if it was it came from the deepest and darkest parts of the Pit. He looked towards the cage with its two layers of fortified walls, blessed and salted iron. Devil’s traps, binding spells. At least it kept the thing caged up, no matter what it was.

“John, that won’t keep it.” John looked up to where a woman half sat and half lay on one of the chairs lining the wall.

“You’re not supposed to be out of the hospital just yet, Pamela,” John reminded her, almost glad that she couldn’t see the concerned look he shot her. Pamela snorted, but there was no humor in it and she rubbed over the bandages covering her eyes.

“I’ll live,” she said, sitting up straighter and making a vague gesture towards the cage. Nobody was getting close to it, the vibrations and high pitched sounds coming from within it were enough to keep everybody who couldn’t help walking through here pressed close to the walls.

“What do you mean the cage won’t keep it? It’s the best we have,” John reminded her, flipping close the thin manila folder they had on this case. This shouldn’t even have been a case, but if suddenly your Psychics start shouting about some entity appearing on their radar, he couldn’t just leave it.

“It stays there because it wants to stay there,” Pamela told him and John frowned. He hated those cocky bastards. “It’s not a demon, John.” John wasn’t so sure about that, after all, what else could it be?

“All we have is that it’s incorporeal and that looking at it burns out eyes,” he summarized, “and a name.” Pamela raised her head to meet John’s gaze and he felt like she was looking into him, even though her eyes were gone.

“Castiel.” John studied Pamela, then he slapped the folder against his palm before he threw it onto the nearest desk, making it almost skid off to the floor. “John, wait. It won’t talk to you,” Pamela called when John walked over to the cage.

“Why not?” he wanted to know, already feeling how the hair on his arms started rising with the closer proximity to the cage. “Does it talk to you?”

“Other than warning me not to look at it?” Pamela asked and one eyebrow rose enough to peek out from underneath the wrappings around her head. “Yeah. It whispered to me when I was in the hospital.” John’s frown deepened and he took a step back towards her, half-turning away from the creature. “I can’t see you but I’ll say it anyway: don’t look so surprised.”

“What did it say?” John demanded to know. Pamela sighed, crossing her legs and lying back against the cushion. “Pamela,” he urged.

“It said that my injuries were not intended and that it could heal me,” she replied and John lowered his head when he heard the note of hopefulness in her voice. It was small, but it was still there. That was never a good thing. They shouldn’t rely on those supernatural bastards giving them anything but pain and despair. At least now Pamela should know that.

“Don’t trust anything that thing says,” he reminded her and Pamela shrugged. “So it can heal. What’s the price?”

“No price. But it said that it required a vessel, a willing vessel it stressed. And it said that once it was done talking to me, it would only interact with a righteous person. Last thing it said?” Pamela huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “ _I will wait_.” John looked disgruntled, turning his head back to the unassuming cage.

“Wait for what?”

“For you to deliver it a willing Host.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Dean saw Jimmy Novak it was in the leather seat opposite his Dad, Bobby Singer gripping his arm. The last time he saw him was when he disappeared behind heavy iron doors two hours later.

 

* * *

 

Lawrence hadn’t changed all that much in the 4 years of his self-imposed exile. He knew that if he wanted to stay for an extended period of time, he’d have to find some paying work. He didn’t want to touch his savings any more than necessary and he really didn’t want to have to depend on his father. Luckily, Grandma Campbell jumped straight into action at the first hesitant `listen, Grandma´.

“So you’re here for John’s big haul?” Deanna Campbell grinned down at Dean from the top of the stairs, pulling her hands out of her jeans jacket to wrap Dean into an affectionate hug. “Didn’t think you’d come back, least of all for that.” Dean shrugged, following his grandmother into the unassuming building that housed a large portion of the private Campbell library.

“Yeah… Didn’t want to go at first, I just thought he was trying to lure me back in with some made up story… But then I saw it on the news,” Dean explained and his grandmother sat him down at one of the tables, switching on the reading lamp. It was slightly dark in here and smelled just like Dean thought every library to smell. Deanna tugged her short blonde hair behind her ear, frowning at Dean with a searching expression.

“And why did that make you come? I thought you were done with _the Business_.” She said the last words with a sarcastic tone and air quotes. She liked John, more than Grandpa did even after Dad’d become a hunter himself, but she disliked his very devoted, unhealthy approach to Hunting and the supernatural at large. “Look, Dean,” she said, “no matter what your Dad says, Hunting is not something you inherit. You don’t have to go back just because of-“

“Generations of Hunters all the way back to the very roots of my family tree?” Dean finished and Deanna sighed, sitting back in her chair. “Grandma, I know. I know his arguments, but I’m not gonna…” He stopped and looked at the slightly scratched surface of the table, thinking and licking his lips. He looked back up. “I’m not gonna get back in just because I’m his son.” Deanna studied her grandson for a long, silent moment and Dean met her eyes without hesitation. After a while Deanna shrugged and Dean knew she wouldn’t bring it up again in the nearer future.

“So you wanna have a job? We could really use someone to enter all the books into some neat, computer accessible system!”

And that was how he found himself a job as some sort of librarian to the Campbell archive. He vowed to himself that this – sorting books containing everything anyone knew about that world beneath the surface - would be the closest he’d get back to Hunting.

 

* * *

 

If John had a penchant to pacing, he’d be wearing the carpet in his office thin. He wasn’t though, but his legs bounced nervously under the table as he went through the meager records again. His file on _Castiel_ was nearly empty, even almost a day after they’d caught it. He knew only what Pamela had told him: it was powerful, nothing they’d ever known and it wanted a willing host. A vessel for which it was prepared to wait. The fact that apparently it was completely unfazed by being held captive unsettled John. Might it be that he was just putting everyone at risk by thinking he could hold that creature? Its form alone could seriously damage humans and maybe Pamela had been right; the walls of the panic room wouldn’t hold it. Because it was nothing that had wandered the earth before.

John snorted and closed the folder in irritation. Mary had called him not too long ago to vent her frustration about dragging Dean back into this line of work. But she stopped short when John gave her a rough description of what they had on their hands.

And now John was left with a theory that neither John nor the other researches had any proof of. He looked at the single paper still sitting on top of his Supernatural diary. Mary, always a hunter, always a dreamer.

_“John_

_The being you have captured is an Angel. You should know better than try to hold it. I know you will take more convincing, but at least consider the facts available to you. What you have is a being made of light and energy so bright that humans cannot perceive it without being overwhelmed. Whatever you caught is incorporeal and requires a vessel to interact within the human sphere. But other than a demon it requires the consent. And you said something about it being able to heal and you know demons don’t do that. Also, why would something that wasn’t divine limit its interaction to a righteous human only?_

_Also, I don’t have my sources with me anymore, but a quick check with Mom revealed that Castiel is the name of an obscure angel, but other than being mentioned in a few incantations there’s nothing on it._

_Mary.”_

John shook his head and folded the piece of paper, tugging it into his journal. Angels, that was a ludicrous thought. Angels didn’t exist.

A knock on the doorframe made John look up. It was unusual that people were able to approach him without him hearing, especially if the door stood wide open. Freaking monster business and Mary with her bed-time stories. John shot the visitor a hard and assessing look. It was a young man, maybe around his older son’s age. John took in the neat hair, the smooth chin, the bruise-like circles under his blue eyes and the clothes he wore. Casual, just tight jeans, sneakers and a cardigan thrown over a pale grey shirt.

“Mr. Winchester?” the new-comer asked and John wondered who had let the kid in. John just nodded though, waiting for an explanation. Maybe he was an intern. “My name’s Jimmy Novak,” he introduced himself.

“And what are you doing here?” John wondered, not unkindly but he didn’t quite have the patience right now. Jimmy straightened and took a few steps into John’s office.

“I heard you are in the presence of an angel,” he said, taking John by surprise, “I am here to volunteer as a vessel.” Confusion, then wariness coursed through John and made him stand up from his seat.

“What?” Jimmy didn’t back down and the calm determination in his blood-shot eyes worried John.

“It needs a willing vessel. I am willing,” he said, but before John could ask him how he came to know of that and what he was thinking volunteering to be possessed, Bobby Singer was suddenly in the office, hands grabbing for Jimmy’s upper arms.

“What are you doing, you idjit?!” he hissed, not helping John’s confusion.

“Offering my body,” Jimmy replied calmly.

“Bobby, what’s going on?” John demanded to know and Bobby groaned, pulling Jimmy towards the seats on the opposite side of John’s table when it became clear that Jimmy wasn’t leaving. “Is he one of yours?” Bobby still had one hand around the upper arm of Jimmy, the other reached up to rub his face.

“Yeah… He’s staying at my place whenever he has a rough moment. He must have overheard our earlier conversation,” Bobby explained and John nodded slowly, looking at Jimmy again. Another traumatized kid, he should have known. Calling Bobby as soon as the topic of human hosts came up had been the most sensible thing to do. He _was_ a specialist on the field of possession of any kind, but John had to remind himself that it wasn’t Bobby’s job. Kids like this Jimmy, that was Bobby’s job.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him decide something like that now,” Bobby continued and Jimmy turned his head to shoot him an irritated look. That a victim of possession was willing to allow his body to be used did strike John as very odd

“I know what I’m doing…,” Jimmy assured them both, “it’s a calling. I have to follow it.” Booby shook his head, giving Jimmy a small shake.

“Jimmy, no. Don’t do this to yourself,” he pleaded, but Jimmy just continued looking at John.

“A calling?” John asked instead, ignoring the look Bobby sent his way. Bobby probably expected John to refuse Jimmy’s request, but John wasn’t so sure that he could afford refusing. Jimmy nodded.

“Castiel… it’s here… I’ve been able to hear it since I approached the building. I know it’s become aware of me too. I can feel it watching me,” Jimmy explained and Bobby hissed.

“That doesn’t bode well, just let’s go, Jimmy,” he said, rising, “calm down and think about it later.” Bobby tensed up further when Jimmy shook his head. He looked up at Bobby with a small smile.

“I’ve made up my mind,” he said, then John saw the smile slip and he barely caught what he whispered to Bobby, “I don’t want to be in this body anymore.” Bobby couldn’t say anything to that even though John realized that his wasn’t a new topic, not even uncommon with possession victims. Jimmy turned to look at John, eyebrows raised almost challengingly. John caught one last look at Bobby.

“I will need to assess your file before I can make up my mind,” he said and Jimmy nodded, “I guess Bobby has it. So just wait here while I get it.” He got up and, for the first time, noticed his son lingering outside of the office, his eyes fixed on the potential vessel.

“Oh, Dean,” John said and he couldn’t help feeling pleased that Dean had come on his call. “This is not a good time, why don’t you wait in the lobby?” Dean seemed mesmerized by Jimmy who just regarded him mildly, probably he had heard at least a part of their conversation. But he snapped out of it and nodded, leaving wordlessly.

“I’ll… go get the file,” Bobby said, his voice tense and Jimmy nodded. “Think about this again, please.” Jimmy didn’t reply and John left with Bobby, closing the door behind them both. Expectedly, Bobby turned on him the moment they were out of ear-shot. “You can’t allow this! Some monster possessing this kid?!”

“Maybe it’s the only shot we have at containing that thing,” John said harshly to snap Bobby out of his emotional moment. “We don’t know what that thing is or what it can do! I assume it’s dangerous enough and if it leaves the panic room I’d rather have it in a shape that we can gun down.” Bobby grabbed John by the collar, staring up at him.

“Don’t talk about him like that! Don’t ever think about sacrificing Jimmy for this stupid Hunt!” John kept calm as he shrugged out of Bobby’s hold.

“Whatever that thing is, demon, heck even angel, it wants a Host. A willing one. We don’t know what it’s going to do when it doesn’t receive one!”

“Jimmy-“

“Has agreed,” John reminded Bobby, “but I won’t just let him walk in there to become a meat suit without knowing the context. So, get the file.” He clapped Bobby on the shoulder, then he walked past him, aiming for the lobby.

He could understand Bobby’s concerns and it was probably questionable to send an emotionally unstable adolescent into such a situation, but he couldn’t just wait for someone else to volunteer. There was no chance in trying to figure out what that Castiel thing was when it wasn’t even squeezed in a form that they were able to chain down and examine.

Dean was sitting in the Lobby, a book spread on his bouncing knees. He looked up when John approached him and closed the book.

“Angels, huh?” was the first thing he asked and John raised an eyebrow up at him. “Grandma said you’ve got yourself something that calls himself Castiel.” John rolled his eyes.

“Mary can’t keep her mouth shut,” he muttered, but then he held out his hand which Dean grasped immediately.

“Not when it’s about angels,” Dean agreed and let himself be pulled into a brief hug.

“Good to see you, Dean. I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said and Dean shrugged with a grin, “but I’m proud.”

“Dad,” Dean started, fiddling with the book’s cracked spine, “I’m not here to become a Hunter… I’m just here to…” John watched his son searching for the best explanation, but apparently he couldn’t settle on one.

“Change of scenery?” John offered and Dean shrugged again, the worried frown slipping off his face to be replaced by another grin. “How are Kate and Adam?”

“Fine,” Dean replied and John nodded, squeezing his shoulder.

“Just give me a minute, there’s something I need to take care of before we can talk,” he said and Dean looked past him into the corridor where he could see Bobby returning.

“Yeah… What kind of supernatural bastard wants a willing vessel? Pretty fucked up if you asked me,” Dean stated, “well, maybe even more fucked up if you’re actually on board with that,” he continued and John sighed.

“Do you still know where the Cage room is?” Dean gave a nod. “Good, then I’ll see you there in a bit.” John turned to walk away, but then he stopped. “And Dean?” Dean raised his eyebrows at him, “thank you for coming.” Dean straightened, then he grinned at him. John gave a slight nod of his head, then he turned around and walked up to Bobby. The older man seemed nervous when he handed him the folder.

“That one’s special to me, John… So please,” Bobby started but couldn’t finish the sentence. John pulled the folder out of Bobby’s hand and reached out to squeeze Bobby’s shoulder. They exchanged a look, then John pulled the door to his office open and rejoined the young man he planned to offer up to the monster.

 

* * *

 

Bobby had seen many cases over the last 10 years he’s been in the business. This particular business. Hunting, when done out of anger and a maddening ache for retribution, was easy, but this, trying to put people back together after they’ve lived through a similar hell than Bobby’s was difficult.

“What do you mean you’ve broken up with Amelia?” Bobby, arms crossed and brows pulled down into a frown that was in equal parts displeasures as it was concern, looked over to the kid currently making use of Bobby’s kitchen. Bobby should have known; his house didn’t smell like home, unless the kid was in it. And it especially didn’t smell this good unless there was some storm raging within him.

“I mean,” Jimmy said, his back still turned towards Bobby while he stirred the sauce, “that we’re no longer a couple.”

“Jimmy,” Bobby started and pulled off his cap, tossing it onto the table. “What happened? I thought you loved her?” Jimmy shrugged, his shoulders small and thin in the grey shirt. Bobby sighed and reached out to wrap his hand around Jimmy’s upper arm, pulling him away from the stove. “What happened?” Jimmy smiled at him and Bobby saw that same tired resignation in his blue eyes that had been haunting Jimmy the last few months.

“I told her… That I tried being… happy.” Bobby knew him well enough to translate it to ‘normal’ and it made him sigh. “But I’m not… This body is wrong… And I couldn’t…” He made a helpless gesture. Bobby pulled him in, pressing Jimmy’s face against his neck, feeling the moisture of tears against his skin almost immediately. “I’m so tired of this.”

Hunting was easy. Killing was easy. Putting something that was broken back together, that was hard.

 

* * *

 

Jimmy Novak’s file stated that he was born on the 18th of September 1978 in Pontiac, Illinois. Normal family, two sisters (twins) 15 years older than him that had both left home before he turned 10. Good but not outstanding grades in school. Worked part-time in a library to finance college. Recently graduated.  Working for a radio station. Bobby’s notes on him were short and analytical, painting a picture of a well-adjusted, if unremarkable young man.

Victim of demonic possession. It was rare, thankfully, maybe half a dozen cases in a year. But Jimmy, the boy that came to offer himself up to become nothing more than a puppet to a monster, had never been possessed.

John’s eyes darted up to the kid, 25 today. Just a bit older than his own son and still ready to march himself into a situation akin to death. Jimmy seemed completely calm, despite John’s silence and occasional frown in his direction. John continued reading the files.

And there it was. A week of illness after the boy had turned 11. Return to school with bruises, but suspicions of domestic abuse couldn’t be proved. Regular attendance after that and the grades picked back up. Always turned up a bit shaken after holidays, but never missed another class. Until he went to church one Sunday and didn’t go back home, walking straight up to the pastor and telling him that he had killed his parents.

Both parents had been possessed by demons. Police checked out the house, finding the bodies lying in salt circles and devil’s traps, demons burned out of them.

Bobby had taken care of the kid in the years that followed.

“You exorcized two demons when you were 17,” John summarized and looked at Jimmy.

“Yes.”

“You lived with demons as parents for 6 years?”

“Seven,” Jimmy corrected and John leant back in his chair, unsure what to say. “They were fascinated by the fact that they couldn’t possess me.” Those words made John lift an eyebrow and Jimmy chuckled hollowly. “Everyone’s so surprised.”

“It’s unusual,” John affirmed, unsure what could cause such immunity apart from talismans. John turned the page, quickly scanning over the list of things Bobby had noted down. No child should go through that. John closed the folder and rubbed his forehead. “Jimmy… Why do you want to become a vessel?”

“Because I cannot stand to remain in this body. If I can offer it to do God’s service, I will,” was Jimmy’s answer and John shook his head.

“I don’t understand. We don’t know that this thing is an angel. You’ve lived with demons for years. And still you want to do that?”

“It seemed fitting,” Jimmy said and John just looked at him without understanding. “God doesn’t make mistakes. This body is good for something still.”

“Jimmy, stop it. I know you must have lived through some bad things, but why are you so adamant about your body being wrong?” Jimmy tilted his head to the side a bit. John didn’t understand this kid. Bobby’s notes didn’t help. Jimmy was a well-adjusted young man who had rough moments from time to time.

“It won’t matter to Castiel. I want this, Mr. Winchester. Castiel needs me and I need it. Please.” John pinched the bridge of his nose. John knew when sacrifices were necessary.

He nodded.

 

* * *

 

There was something offsetting about the Cage room. Dean had been in there when it actually held a monster only once, just shortly before he quit for good. Not in the fortified cage though, but in one with bars and devil traps. This Cage, the Panic Room as it was also called, was just a box of iron with a single door and a now closed window. The entire room hummed with a strange sort of vibration, like a too loud bass, getting into Dean and humming within his chest.

Dean was unsure what help his father thought he could provide here. He probably just wanted him back in the Family Business and this was big enough for his father to think he needed a partner.

“Do you really think it’s an angel in there?” he asked when his father joined him almost an hour later, tense and ready for whatever would happen.

“At this point we have to expect everything,” he said and handed Dean chalk and paper. “Good. I want you to paint these warding symbols around the Cage.” Dean looked at them.

“That’s an odd mix,” he stated, “what exactly are you warding against? Godzilla?”

“Everything we know about,” he said and left Dean to his own devices, to talk to a group of armed men that had just entered. Hunters. So they were ready to shoot this thing down if necessary. Dean set himself to work, the vibration tickling up his arms as he drew. There was a ringing sound in his ears that got louder the closer he came until he actually had to stop and retreat.

“Shit, whatever that thing inside of there is, it’s making an awful noise!” Dean complained, rubbing his ears.

“Yeah, it is definitely harmful to humans without a vessel,” John said, reassuming his position next to Dean. “Are you done?” Dean nodded. “Good. Because we’re ready to go.”

“That guy you spoke to…”

“Jimmy Novak.”

“Yeah. So he’s really offering himself up?” Dean turned slightly to the side, where he could spot Bobby Singer and Jimmy exchanging words. Jimmy wore a suit now, drawing his hand through his hair constantly, messing it up. Bobby gave him a hug that lasted for quite a long time, before Jimmy let go and walked up to John.

“Mr. Winchester,” he acknowledged him and smiled at Dean. Dean thought that he looked damn cheerful for someone that planned on doing something far too close to suicide.

“I’ll see you later, Jimmy,” his father replied, shaking hands with him. And Jimmy continued smiling, almost as if he was content with this fucked up situation. That certainly was a scary thought.

“Yeah,” he said and also extended his hand to Dean, who took it with a confused frown. Jimmy’s palms were slightly damp. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet _you_.” Jimmy’s smile was almost shy and Dean blinked at him. Was he being hit on? Really? By a guy? _Now_?

“The name’s Dean,” he replied, eyes never leaving Jimmy’s. “I’ll take you out to eat a burger when you’re released, if you’d like.” Dean realized that his word choice was both poor and also oddly fitting for a guy that’d make himself a prisoner in his own body. Probably for life, possibly without a chance of survival. If Jimmy realized he didn’t say anything.

“I’d like that,” Jimmy answered with a small laugh and Dean felt an inexplicable reluctance to let that hand slip out of his grasp. But Jimmy nodded at John and turned away without a word. Dean watched him open the first door to the room, light streaming out even though there was another wall and another door separating them form the thing inside. Then the door was closed. And they waited.

From the moment Dean had entered this room there had been an odd ringing noise in Dean’s ear. Now it grew in intensity until it suddenly shifted to what sounded like hushed whispers. A blast of bright light that couldn’t have lasted more than a second that left everyone gasping and the sound of guns being raised reached Dean’s ears.

Then it was gone, the noise had died down and the door was still closed.

“Uhm… Maybe Jimmy wasn’t willing enough after all?” Dean suggested, but then the door burst open with a loud clang and out stepped Jimmy Novak’s body. But gone was that smile, the looseness of his limbs. Whatever Castiel was, it had apparently accepted him as its vessel.

“Castiel?” John called loudly and not-Jimmy lifted his head, regarding first John, then the rest of the room with a childlike curiosity, looking down at his hands, flexing them, before he took a step, crossing several of the symbols Dean had drawn. He did stop at another line, but he didn’t even look concerned about it, just turned his head around until his eyes fell on a woman that now rose from a chair. Dean could see that her face was bandaged. Maybe this was the Psychic that had been hurt. Dean watched in fascination how the creature started moving towards her, ignoring symbols and devil’s traps and shouts thrown its way.

“Pamela!” John shouted, but the woman just raised a hand to shut him up. Castiel lowered his head a bit until it almost touched Pamela’s, but then he lifted his hand and put two fingers against Pamela’s forehead. Pamela’s mouth moved soundlessly, but then Castiel stepped away, all interest in her lost. Dean saw how Pamela reached out trembling hands, unwrapping the bandages to reveal wide, undamaged eyes.

“Pam? You’re okay?” John called and Pamela nodded, touching her eyelids. “Okay, who are you?” John had a gun aimed in Castiel’s direction, but Castiel just looked at him, head slightly tilted to the side.

“John, I told you… It will only interact with a righteous human,” Pamela said, her voice still a bit shaky, “apparently you don’t satisfy its needs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean wondered, but then he gave a start as he saw Castiel’s eyes focusing on him. The intensity was frightening and Dean took a step back. John immediately stood between him and the creature, apparently having noticed the sudden interest it had in his son.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel spoke and Dean couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. The voice was so different to Jimmy’s gentle tones.

“What do you want with my son?!” John roared.

“We shall only speak with the Righteous Man,” Castiel spoke and Dean took a step away from John, still finding Castiel’s eyes on him. “We need to talk, Dean,” he said, “alone.”


	2. An Old Road for the Righteous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta had time to read through this earlier than I thought, so here we are!
> 
> I just wanted to point you towards the warnings again: in this chapter there’s a flashback to Jimmy’s childhood as well as Castiel using female pronouns to refer to himself.

**Chapter 2: An old road for the Righteous**

Dean knew his way around monsters, demons, even occasional pagan gods. He had done his internship at SRP with the research facility. He’d been on his four mandatory Hunts. He’d written his reports. And even when he had left to attend college, even when he had moved in with the Milligans, he still hid devil’s traps and kept ears and eyes open.

Dean was no newbie in the world of the Supernatural, especially with a family background like his, but sitting inside the panic room with an incredibly powerful thing wearing a human face still made him almost nauseous.

“Okay, Castiel, right?” Castiel nodded slowly, not perturbed at all that he’d been ushered back into the cage. “So what are you?”

“I’m an Angel of the Lord,” came the calm reply and he tilted his head at Dean’s frown.

“Right. Sorry if I don’t quite buy this. There’s no such thing as angels,” Dean spat, but it still didn’t cause anything else than a small puzzled frown appearing on Castiel’s face. Jimmy Novak’s face, Dean reminded himself. “You come here, burn out eyes and snatch the body of that poor bastard! Surely no angel would do that!”

“Dean,” Castiel started, “we cannot interact on this plane without a human vessel. We are the embodiment of God’s will. Most humans cannot stand to watch our glory.” Dean snorted at that, but didn’t think it prudent to tell an angel to stop bragging.

“And what do you need me for?” he settled on asking.

“I have come here with a purpose. We are not allowed to walk alone. A righteous man has to be our guide. Another filter between Heaven and mortals,” Castiel explained, his eyes never leaving Dean. It was really unsettling; the blue of Jimmy’s eyes, now brighter than before, sent Dean’s heartbeat into a probably unhealthy frenzy. So Dean leant back against the iron walls, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can only talk to you.”

“And what if I don’t want to talk with you?” Dean asked petulantly, receiving another head-tilt, and then Castiel was walking up to him, far too close, staring up into his face. “Dude!” Castiel studied him and Dean took the moment to calm down. No stench of sulfur, no wet odor of blood. Just shower gel and aftershave. So mundane it shocked Dean.

“Why would you want to defy Heaven?” Castiel wanted to know, sounding genuinely intrigued. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just snorted.

“What’s your purpose here?” Dean asked instead and was glad when Castiel took a step back. “You’ve got to announce the birth of Jesus or something?”

“No,” he answered seriously and Dean wondered if angels didn’t get sarcasm. “I have come here for…,” he breathed in and Dean was a bit surprised to notice that he actually was breathing. “A friend,” Castiel said with a small sigh. Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“You angels have friends?” Castiel did his head-tilt thing again and it almost seemed like a small smile on his lips, but he didn’t volunteer a reply. Dean sighed. “So what exactly do you want me to do? Angel or not, you’re a monster and should be locked up in SRP.”

“I’m not a monster,” Castiel replied apparently unoffended, “why would you want to lock me up?”

“Dude, look around! You got caught by Hunters! You’re in a cage!” Which, Dean reminded himself, he had walked out of not too long ago with no regards to the walls and wards.

“I merely remained here because without a vessel I would harm those that are attuned to the other spheres. I didn’t want to risk more injuries,” Castiel explained, “don’t think you can contain an angel against its wishes.” Dean wanted to retort something, but the fact that Castiel emitted an intimidating air, even though he was shorter than Dean put him ill at ease.

“So what now? You’re gonna burst out?” Dean asked, pushing himself further against the wall when Castiel leant in to study him.

“No,” he replied.

“Good, because if you’re really an angel, the guys here will want to study you,” Dean explained, still unsure if he should believe the entire angel business.

“I told you,” Castiel said, “I won’t interact with anyone but you…” Dean just frowned, shaking his head, “and I need your guidance, Dean.” Dean was spared the difficulty to find a good answer to that by the door of the panic room opening. John looked inside, his face stern and grim when he studied Castiel.

“It’s getting late, Dean. Time to go home,” he said, then he turned his attention to the angel, “you’re going to stay here.” As expected, Castiel ignored him, but made no move to follow when Dean and John left without another word.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief after he had left the room behind and John grabbed his arm.

“What did he say to you?” John demanded to know, quickly checking Dean for any signs of injury.

“Not much. He mostly just stared at me,” Dean told him, “he says he’s an angel and that he came here to check upon a friend of his. Angels apparently aren’t allowed to move around without a human guide…”

“That’s bad. I didn’t want you to get involved like this,” John hissed and Dean snorted. Surely he had wanted him to get involved, he just had expected something more in line of the usual vampire or shifter. Or, hell forbid, a demon. But surely, not even John would make Dean face down a demon. “We’re keeping him locked up. You don’t need to go near him anymore.”

“It’s not as if he can be held back, Dad. He told me he wouldn’t leave though… I bet he’s there waiting for me to show up again,” Dean mused, shaking his head at the absurdity. “I don’t think I’ve got much of a say in this anymore.” John seemed angry and he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, steering him out of the room.

“Go home, Dean. Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” he assured him and before Dean could protest the door slid close, locking him out of the room that contained an angel.

 

* * *

 

No matter how she grew up, no matter what she had seen, no matter what she had suffered through, Mary had never stopped believing in one simple fact: despite all the evil, there was still good. Angels had watched her cry, fight, stumble, lose and regain faith. Even as she was now, weak and sick, there was nothing to stop her from hanging on to what had gotten her through the rougher patches in her life. She was the only one that broke out in tears of joy when Dean told her that he had been chosen by an angel.

Dean felt a little bit better afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Jimmy loved his mother, even when he crouched before her as she scratched signs into his back. They’d fade, he knew, just on the surface, red lines, sometimes bleeding, always stinging.

“You’re such a peculiar thing,” she whispered, her fingers carding through his hair. It was already too long now, waves that Daddy petted and Mommy pulled. He wanted to cut it after Roger had said that is was wrong for boys to have girly hair, but didn’t dare asking. They got angry sometimes. “Why can’t we possess you?” She pulled at his hair and he fell backwards, into her lap and she put her arms around him. She stank of rotten eggs and Jimmy pressed his lips together in an attempt not to breathe in. Daddy had always said you can catch illness by just breathing bad air.

Jimmy loved his parents, but they were sick. Blackness swirling inside them, something nobody else could see.

Mommy pushed her fingers against his cheeks, forcing his lips open. “You’re wrong, aren’t you?” Jimmy couldn’t speak, watched as his mother’s eyes turned black and she jerked her head at his father. Black smoke shot out of his mouth and towards Jimmy. Jimmy felt sick, watching his father drop to the floor, wheezing and chocking, but the smoke swirled in front of Jimmy. It hurt, just looking at it, he felt it like the roar of winter wind. It was wrong and cold and Jimmy burned and burned. He wanted to throw up, almost did, but then the smoke retreated and his father sat back up with a frown and a head-shake.

“Oh, you little monster,” Mommy whispered in his ear with a sing-song voice, pressing his mouth shut with warm fingers. “Poor thing. Such a freak.” She released him and Jimmy could breathe again. “Take him away. But don’t kill him yet.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I like it in here.” Jimmy was hauled up on his feet and thrown into the pantry. No light, no fresh air. And Daddy closed the door.

“You can come out when you’re no longer bad,” he said with same loving, kind voice his father always had used with him. “But maybe you’re better off locked away.”  

 

* * *

 

It was four days before Dean showed up again. Castiel was well versed in waiting and this vessel proved to offer no discomfort apart from the small disquieting echo of pain that flickered over the barely awake mind of Jimmy Novak. Humanity, seen from within, was odd. What Jimmy tried to push away, Castiel embraced soothingly, slipping into unloved organs, limbs and cells. What Jimmy tried to discard Castiel made her own.

During the day they came to ask, to shout, to drive metal over and into skin, to set fire and to douse in holy water. Castiel didn’t care and didn’t acknowledge those humans’ efforts.

“Okay, so they told me they tried all kinds of things on you,” Dean said when he returned, a file in his hand he barely glanced at. Castiel saw the guarded interest in his eyes. “Nothing seems to be affecting you.” Dean’s eyes travelled over the skin not covered in clothing, searching for the wounds of iron or silver that weren’t there.

“There is no need for humans to understand us,” Castiel told him, but received a frown in return.

“Dude, try to put yourself into our shoes. You can’t be held by anything we know, maybe you’re extremely powerful. And we don’t know if you mean us any ill. Of course we want to know how to defend against you or kill you if it comes to that.” Castiel did understand the concept behind this, but it still didn’t make any sense.

“Why would you want to kill an angel?” she asked, straightening her shoulders to feel her wings rearrange into this plane. It was odd to have them in between this sphere and Heaven. Invisible and intangible for humans, but she still felt their substance, their weight.

“We don’t know you’re an angel,” Dean retorted dryly, “there haven’t been any accounts of you. I mean reliable ones.” Castiel couldn’t help huffing at that and she walked up to Dean. He stood his ground even though Castiel saw him tense.

“A hunter’s testimony? A story of how to hunt and kill our kind?” Castiel asked and Dean wrinkled his nose. “We have always watched over you, unseen unless God wanted us to interact with you directly. The last time we walked among you was 2000 years ago.” Dean seemed intrigued about that. “I will answer your questions, Dean. Yours only. But I would welcome it if you would lead me out of here.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You can’t hold me captive,” Castiel reminded him, “and I mean you no harm.” Dean shook his head, unconvinced, and left Castiel on her own. But not before she told him: “if you need me. Just say my name. I will come.” The door didn’t conceal him from sight and Castiel saw him take a deep breath and then seek out his father. As expected, John was not pleased at all at even seeing Dean anywhere near Castiel. The protectiveness he emitted was laudable but unnecessary. He did forbid Dean from getting close to her and sent him away.

Three hours later Dean stood up from the books he was sorting, the evening light pouring in red through the dusty, barred windows, and called her name.

 

* * *

 

Dean was an idiot. He was totally sure he was an idiot. How else would he end up with a thing that called itself an angel looking through the books still in need to be sorted. In the basement of the Campbell library. Without any weapons.

Truth to be told, he was not entirely convinced by his father’s assessment of Castiel. Nobody knew what he really was. And nobody knew if he was dangerous. Apart from Pamela, no one else had been hurt.

Dean didn’t really feel any sympathy for the creature currently studying an incredibly boring and outdated book on the correlation of dry weather and Nuckelavee activity. He didn’t care about the increasingly frustrated reports on all the things that hadn’t worked on Castiel, on the growing number of creatures crossed out form the list of things Castiel could be. If they decided to make him a supernatural zoo animal Dean wouldn’t feel any guilt. If they bound him in symbols of submission and painful, choking chains, Dean wouldn’t sleep any worse at night.

But if Castiel really was an angel, if he really had only come here to check on a friend… Then what? What would that mean for his perception of monsters? What would this mean for his perception of Castiel? What would that change about all the bad things that had happened to him?

Dean hissed at himself, a noise that made Castiel look up from the pages and at Dean. Without answering the unvoiced question in Castiel’s stolen eyes, Dean turned around and aimed for the stairs.

“I need food. Come on, we can talk there,” Dean said and heard Castiel’s light steps follow.

It was nearing late after-noon and there was no one to stop Dean or Castiel on the way out of the library. His grandmother was probably already home, doing whatever retired hunter folk did. Dean wasn’t sure where his jitteriness about the angel walking by his side came from. No one knew what Castiel was, no one knew what Castiel looked like. Sure, there was the whole issue with him actually walking around in a body that probably had a family and friends or at least acquaintances.

He really should know better. If there was one thing he had taken away from the years at SRP it was that you don’t ever let your guard down around monsters. There were so many things that could go wrong due to Dean making half-assed, stupid decisions.

That Castiel froze and refused to get even remotely close to the inside of his car was not a problem Dean had anticipated. Dean shot a look over the Impala’s roof to where he had left the creature at the passenger side’s door. When Castiel just stared at his car as if it was a particularly vicious beast smeared with all the nice stuff a grungy sewer had to offer, Dean had to roll his eyes.

“Dude, don’t tell me angels can’t get into cars!”

“This is your mode of transport,” Castiel stated, completely ignoring Dean’s teasing. It still sounded like a question so Dean shrugged. Castiel’s displeased expression didn’t change much.

“So? I know that Jesus wasn’t driving around in a Chevy, but don’t look down your nose on my ride,” Dean said in a light, but still warning tone. Castiel didn’t move, apart from lifting his head to look at Dean.

“I apologize. I meant your vehicle no dishonor,” he said and Dean wasn’t sure if he was being mocked, “but if you tell me where you want to be, I can get us there in a more efficient way.” Dean took a moment to decipher Castiel’s meaning, but in the end he just patted the roof of his car.

“Just get your feathery ass inside,” he said and slipped into the car. He was actually surprised when the door opened and Castiel wiggled his way inside. Not at all graceful, as if he was trying to accommodate a lot of bags. Or as if he were a lot bigger than he actually was. “Dude. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s… small,” was all Castiel volunteered on the topic, but he settled down and stared straight ahead. Dean mouthed a weirded-out _okay_ , but ignited the motor.

Castiel didn’t seem impressed by Dean’s car, nor his music and Dean at least felt a bit annoyed at that. But if all you ever travelled on were clouds or beams of light and you only listened to choirs then you were bound to have a very limited understanding of things that were good and worthwhile.

The ride to the diner Dean had chosen was rather short, but Castiel was out without even opening the door.

“You can teleport?” he asked, feeling Castiel’s eyes on him instantly.

“We can travel quicker than you as we understand the intricate workings of time and space better than its natives,” he said and it didn’t make a lot of sense to Dean, but at least he could add another point to the list of things this creature was able to do.

“Whatever. I’m starving,” Dean announced and approached the diner. Castiel only took a moment to walk up to him and they were promptly seated and handed menus. Dean glanced over the top of his menu and had to laugh. Castiel was sitting straight-backed and staring at Dean with wide eyes that Dean was pretty sure were accusing. “So what crawled up your ass now?” Dean asked. He knew he was probably stretching his luck and getting pretty close to a free ticket to being hit by divine wrath, but the look on the creature’s face was rather comical.

“Nothing,” Castiel replied, slightly puzzled at the question. “There are-“ Castiel abruptly stopped speaking and averted his eyes once the waitress returned to their table. Dean was surprised by the action, but there was no shyness or modesty to be found in the focused stare Castiel still managed to send his way.

“A burger and some coffee please,” Dean said and raised an eyebrow at Castiel, “and pie and a glass of water.” The waitress nodded and when Castiel didn’t acknowledge her, simply walked away again.

“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you can’t look at other people or have them hear your voice all of a sudden.” Castiel raised his head again and frowned.

“Our interaction with mortals should be limited. With you I can talk, because you are the Righteous Man.”

“Whatever that means,” Dean muttered, but Castiel wasn’t very forthcoming with an explanation.

“And your father is righteous too, but he pales in comparison to you. I deemed it fine for him to hear my voice. Humans like the patrons of this establishment are not connected to the other planes, nor are they close to it by chosen profession. I would merely prefer not to interact with them lest I influence them in a way that was not intended.” Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“Like with Pamela?” Castiel nodded. “Yeah, that was a rather dickish thing to do for an angel.” Castiel at least looked contrite.

“I warned her,” Dean was told and Castiel leant forwards a bit, the tie Jimmy had at one point put on sweeping over the table top. “I told her not to look because my true form can be overwhelming to humans. Just like my true voice.” Dean lifted his eyebrow at that, leaning away just in case Castiel felt like jumping over the table and biting his head off.

Dean had so many questions on the tip of his tongue, questions the whole SRP probably was dying to have answers to as well, but this really wasn’t the place to talk. Angel or not, Castiel was a supernatural creature and as such had absolutely no right to sit in a diner, being served a glass of water by a smiling waitress. He was supposed to be locked up, sent back or killed.

Castiel looked at the glass oddly, as if unsure what to do with it. Dean was momentarily distracted by the burger.

“I thought maybe you don’t eat… But not even water?” Dean hissed from behind his burger. Dean knew that creatures that took vessels didn’t need to sustain them. But demons, Dean recalled, still ate whenever they felt like it. Castiel however didn’t seem inclined to taste anything on the table.

“I have no need for nourishment,” Castiel explained and that was the end of the discussion. Actually it was the end of any conversation between them for the rest of Dean’s dinner. It was rather awkward, but there was no way he was going to talk about angels in a public place, not after the SRP had made the headlines and people were speculating about a powerful demon. And since there was nothing else to discuss they both were quiet. Castiel didn’t seem to mind and rose wordlessly once Dean tossed the money on the table and got up.

Castiel showed the same reluctance to get back into the Impala, but didn’t make the same fuss. Once the door was closed Dean assumed the self-imposed secrecy to be gone. “Okay, how do you think this is going to work, huh?” Dean asked and received a mildly curious look in return. Castiel held himself stiffly and Dean got the very funny notion that maybe his vessel felt about two sizes too small for him. But then again, what did Dean know of vessels? It had never really interested him. He did his mandatory reading on the topic, listened to a past victim and accounts of vessel wearing demons at the zoo, but he had never wanted to get into that particular field. He knew his Dad’s opinion on the matter; once a human got possessed, he was out of the picture. Invisible behind the force of what moved it from within. Dean had to check himself, because this was still a human he was interacting with, a human with a particularly nasty parasite, but still. This was Jimmy Novak with his shy smile and a death wish.

“You will accompany me to my former friend. I will ascertain that nothing is out of order and then I will return to my post.” Dean frowned at the creature.

“And why do you need me for that? Can’t you just pop over and be gone again? Why drag me along?” Dean wondered and got that strange head-tilt Castiel was prone to show him along with the soul searching stare.

“I told you. We shall not move within this plane without a righteous man accompanying us. Also, this is a delicate matter.” Dean groaned at the lack of any real information in this answer, but started up his car. But just as he pulled out of the parking lot, the question of where to take Castiel pressed itself upon him. He couldn’t possibly take him to his Dad’s apartment and he wasn’t able to move to his own place just yet. There was no need to burn through his savings within the first week of being back to Lawrence just to have a nice little cage for a maybe angel.

“I’m gonna drive back home, but you can’t stay there, alright?” Dean finally said, feeling like he was talking to some stray cat he had picked up. “It’s Dad’s place.”

“I don’t require shelter,” Castiel promptly replied and Dean sighed.

“Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let you flit off to God knows where. I need to know where you are, so either you return to the cage in the SRP building or you’re somewhere I can keep taps on you.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a hazard, that’s why! Maybe you haven’t noticed, but supernatural creatures don’t exactly get along with humans! Dad will probably already throw a fit because you’re not where you’re supposed to be and I have to vouch for you now!” Dean argued hotly, “Maybe you can’t be killed, but you’ll be put on the Hunting List anyway as soon as you’re no longer on the SRP’s radar. And that won’t be pretty.”

“I don’t fear your human organizations,” Castiel replied, completely unfazed, “but I don’t want to cause you undue frustration. I will wait for your call at a location of your choice.” Dean was surprised at the easy manner Castiel accepted Dean’s decisions, but he _had_ said he needed Dean’s guidance. Maybe his obedience was to be expected. It still made Dean squeamish, because what kind of world did he live in, where angels lowered themselves enough to follow the decisions of a college drop-out? What was so special about him that supernatural creatures went out of their way to listen to him?

“Uh, good,” was all Dean managed to say for the moment and he was spared from saying more by his father’s apartment block coming into view. He parked his car and got out, finding Castiel already on the sidewalk and looking up at the building. “Dad’s still at the bureau, so you can come up, we’ll decide where you have to go afterwards.” Castiel didn’t seem to have any objections to that, so Dean got into the house and up on the fourth floor. The apartment wasn’t his own, but he still felt slightly flustered to have it under the scrutiny of an angel. Castiel didn’t offer an opinion on the state of the apartment, which was even messier than the day before, owning to lore and the little facts they had on angels now littering the place. Dean made his way to his own room, unlocking his door.

Dean sighed in relief when he sat down on his bed, taking off his shoes. The room was still rather empty, especially in contrast to the mess outside. Just a bed (unmade), a desk with computer, a TV and a bookshelf. Castiel was a strange addition to it, and was there any rule on how to play host to angels? He couldn’t exactly offer him food or drinks.

“Okay, so why don’t you sit down and we can discuss what to do,” Dean offered and Castiel sat down on the bed next to him. Dean felt his hair stand on end at being so close to a monster, but he held himself back from telling him to sit somewhere else. “So tell me about your friend.”

“It’s one of my brothers. He used to be of a rank higher than I, but he abandoned his post not long ago. In human years it should be close to two decades,” Castiel explained and Dean lifted his eyebrow in wonder.

“What does that mean? Why did he do that?”

“I cannot understand his motivation, nor do I wish to,” Castiel replied and Dean was quite sure there was a certain amount of weariness in Castiel’s voice. Whatever that dude had done, it must have been a pretty big no-go. “For us devotion to God and Heaven is what makes us. Even as far away from home as our Garrison is, we are still a part of Heaven’s structure and still its children. To leave his post meant to undo what he was.”

“You can do that?” Dean wondered, but it wasn’t as if he exactly understood what the creature was. He started to believe that it was an angel, but that didn’t answer anything. Nobody knew what an angel really was.

“Yes,” Castiel said with a nod, “never entirely, of course. I understand that my brother tore out his Grace, which is the sustenance we live on. It gives us our powers, but even without it, we are still at our core angels. That is how God made us.”

“So… your brother is somewhere here then? Without his Grace? And you’ve got to pick him up again?” Dean tried to summarize. He had long pulled out his notebook from underneath his pillow. If he had the means of recording something about a new creature, then he owed it to the Hunters everywhere to do so. Castiel shook his head.

“No. His decision has been made. I do not agree with it, but it is not my place to judge it,” Castiel said and Dean couldn’t help but agree with that. He knew how it was with siblings. Even though you might get angry at their decisions, they still needed to live their own lives… It was almost odd to realize that there was a supernatural species out there that functioned like that too. “After he tore out his Grace he made himself fall. Which means he entered the human plane as nothing more than raw essence, unable to fly, or steer himself, or even find a vessel. He was as a human soul, subjected to God’s mercy and love in guiding him to a new home.” Okay, that part flew right over Dean’s head.

“What?” Castiel’s mouth moved just slightly and Dean was sure that he was smiling. It was not mocking, but rather indulgent maybe even soft. Dean didn’t like how insecure it made him feel to be looked at like this. But then again, this was an angel, weren’t they supposed to be nice?

“It means that my brother was reborn as a human, or at least as a semblance of human,” Castiel explained and Dean looked at him in surprise.

“Wait a moment,” he said, his pen hovering above the page, “so if an angel falls, he doesn’t turn into a demon, but a human?” It was Castiel’s turn to look mystified at Dean’s question. He moved a bit, his upper body coming closer, close enough for Dean to feel the warmth he emitted, like someone running a fever.

“Fallen angels are just that. Fallen angels. Their essence can be corrupted I assume, but it cannot become demonic,” he replied and Dean wrote that down under the watchful eyes of Castiel. “You do know what demons are, don’t you?” Dean wanted to reply that of course he knew, but looking at Castiel he wasn’t so sure. There was something hard but sad in his eyes, a mixture of divine anger and remorse maybe.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“They were human once,” Castiel told him and Dean’s breath hitched, “if a human soul is corrupted in hell it turns into a demon. Just like when a human soul remains on this plane instead of departing… The same thing happens… It takes centuries, but it’s something you cannot escape. Only in Heaven do they know peace and stability.” Dean took a shaky breath, putting down pen and notebook.

“So you’re saying… The things we’ve been hunting were human once?” Castiel gave a small nod.

“Almost everything that is on this plane was once a human soul. Monsters, demons, ghosts… There aren’t that many different essences in this universe, even though they can be mutated.” Dean lifted his hand to rub his forehead.

“So… If I go to hell, I’ll become a demon?” he asked and only when he looked up did he see Castiel’s frown.

“Technically yes, but unless you make a pact with a demon you won’t go to Hell. You’re a righteous human, Dean, rest assured that God will receive you kindly once it is your turn to depart.” Dean was reduced to incredulous silence after that, but looking at Castiel, he was sure that he wasn’t joking. After a while Dean forced himself to utter a laugh.

“Getting into Heaven isn’t that difficult, huh?” He wasn’t sure why he had asked and Castiel regarded him with a head-tilt. But he didn’t receive an answer because Castiel rose and turned his eyes to the door.

“Your father is about to return. Do you wish me to leave?” That spurred Dean into action as well. He knew he behaved like a teenager trying to hide- what exactly? It wasn’t as if he’d been doing anything naughty with the angel that his Dad wasn’t supposed to see. But just harboring a supernatural creature would probably earn Dean the lecture of the century and he was so not willing to let that happen again (last century’s lecture had been bad enough).

“Yeah! Get lost! Or, I don’t know!” Dean drew his hand through his hair, trying to think where to put the angel. “Uhm… The library. Can you go to the archive? Nobody should be there and if they are, you can just hide among the shelves or something.” Dean guessed it wasn’t the best resort there was, but it seemed better than shoving Castiel back into the panic room at SRP. Castiel didn’t seem to mind and with a nod he was gone. A light breeze touched Dean’s face and the sound of rustling wings reached his ears.

“So… he’s got wings, huh,” Dean said into the silence, but then his father returned and Dean had other things on his mind. He had very important information to share.

 

* * *

 

Castiel had quickly realized that all those centuries of watching humanity unfold had ill-prepared her for actually entering within this plane. That those people had become aware of her before she was properly settled into a human form apt for interaction was rather unfortunate. But it had both led her vessel and the Righteous Man towards her. Fate worked splendidly, Castiel was glad to have reaffirmed this once again.

However, she had expected this to be a swift affair and found her own preparation wholly lacking. Other than going straight to the human her fallen brother had become, she was required to wait for Dean to return to her side.

The cellar room that held the library’s archive, the very same room Dean had called her to mere human hours ago, was cast into darkness. She felt the sensation of a dry chill pressing against her newly acquired body and she ran her fingers over the spines of the books piled onto the shelves. Perceiving the worlds through the filter of Jimmy Novak was interesting and – Castiel was afraid to notice – also exciting. She should pay attention “not to get side-tracked” as she’d been advised by multiple brothers. Hester told her that she was still young and excitable and Castiel had been a little bit unsettled to realize that even 30’000 human years later Hester still found it fit to tease her. It had been unfortunate that humans – no matter their stage of development – didn’t usually react kindly to angels suddenly appearing amongst their midst to join in song. While Zachariah almost removed her from the Garrison on principle alone, Michael had shown rare kindness, reassuring the Host that her actions had been caused by admiration of God’s splendors. It was good that she had been able to redeem herself with extraordinary battle results, so the teasing was limited to lulls in watching human history unfold. 

She wondered if Uriel had thought of another joke yet, one that involved her all too graceless entry into the human plane this time. Maybe she would laugh centuries from now, but at this moment she was still uneasy about the damage she had caused. She had received instructions not to meddle with humans – not to heal when they required it, not to speak when they talked to her, not to look too closely. Michael hadn’t contacted her yet, she assumed that healing the damage she had caused to Pamela Barnes was still within the allowed limits of divine intervention. It _had_ been her true visage that had hurt the psychic.

Castiel turned her attention away from the tangible things in the library archive and listened. After all, she had a brother to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just that I've mentioned it; next chapter'll explain why Castiel is using female pronouns. (I could write an essay about my head-canon of angelic sex/gender, but maybe that's for another fanfiction to explore *lol*)


	3. The Footprints of Shooting Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, I had the flu!
> 
> This chapter also gave me quite a bit of work when it got to editing...! I hope I managed to beat it into shape with my dreadful red marker and the help of my lovely beta, Esmerod!

Dad was furious about Castiel’s disappearance but at least Dean was able to talk him out of issuing an official Hunt to get him back. He obviously had to admit that Castiel had followed him out. John was even less pleased about that.

The new information Dean had for him did at least appease him somewhat and kept him busy enough for Dean to slip off to the library without his dad complaining.

As expected, Castiel was down in the archive.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said, not putting the book he was reading down. “This account is highly inaccurate,” he went on. Dean sighed, but didn’t think it worthwhile to discuss the mating habits of Kitsune.

“We’ll better try to find your friend,” he said instead and that got Castiel to discard the book. “Do you have any idea how to find him?”

“I know when he fell, that should allow us to trace where he fell. After that it shouldn’t be difficult,” Castiel told him. Dean wasn’t convinced at all, but was at least willing to cooperate. The sooner Castiel was off his hands again, the better.

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?” he asked and sat down in front of the old computer grandma Campbell had provided him with. At least it had internet. Sometimes.

“His fall should have been visible within the mortal plane… It might have appeared to you as an unusual meteorological phenomenon… And it should have been in 1985.” Dean frowned.

“Meteorological phenomenon? Like what? Do falling angels look like shooting stars or something?” he asked and got a nod in return. “What? Really?” Castiel put his hands on the back of the empty chair and looked at the still loading internet page.

“Angels can influence your plane in many ways when we enter it this violently.” Dean was still kind of stuck at the shooting star bit, but he nevertheless started searching. Castiel was waiting patiently while Dean clicked his way through a number of newspaper accounts of strange phenomena, accessing some of the SRP’s sources on unexplained sightings and just randomly jumping from webpage to webpage. It took him a while, but when he actually found something he leant back in his chair.

“Hey, what about this?” Castiel, who had wandered off to check out more books, walked up to Dean and sat down in the empty chair next to him. “Two shooting stars were witnessed, funnily enough just around the area a tree grew almost overnight. Think that could be your buddy’s what was it? Grace?”

“Grace would be able to do that, yes… Do you know its location?” It was hard to say but Castiel actually sounded quite eager. Dean searched for the necessary info and saw Castiel get up. “So what now?” The angel didn’t reply, instead he reached out his hands, two fingers going for Dean’s forehead. Before Dean could duck instinctively the world became a disorienting blur of colors. And rearranged itself into clear blue skies and green grass and leaves.

Mouth gaping, Dean stared at the new location. It was a clearing, certainly not the archive basement he had been in a second ago. Castiel took no note at all of Dean’s bafflement, walking past him towards the only tree in the clearing.

“Hey, warn me next time before you zap me someplace! Dammit!” Dean hissed, jogging after Castiel.

“Apologies, but this was the fastest method,” he replied remorselessly and Dean rolled his eyes, trailing him. The tree Castiel guided them to was magnificent; a huge thing with bright green leaves despite autumn already having set in. “So when angels fall you make trees grow,” Dean muttered.

“Not quite,” Castiel replied and put his hand on the bark. Dean watched him lower his head and close his eyes. “Grace is the energy our Father has bestowed upon us. It is a manifestation of God’s love for us.”

“Power of creation, huh?” Dean asked and Castiel opened his eyes again to look at Dean and nodded. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I will extract this Grace and keep it safe until my brother might need it again,” Castiel explained, “please close your eyes.” Dean snorted in displeasure at being told what to do, but he turned his back on him and closed his eyes. Despite this he still saw and actually felt the light starting to glow until it reached an alarming brightness that made Dean shield his eyes with his arm. After a while it was gone and Dean deemed it safe to turn around again. Castiel held a vial on a thin silver chain in his hand. Inside Dean could see a glowing blue liquid of some sort.

“This is it? Very unspectacular for your power source…,” he said with a snort and watched Castiel put it in the pocket of his neatly pressed trousers.

“A human soul doesn’t look like much either if it is manifested on this plane, but it is still immensely valuable,” Castiel retorted and with a casual touch to Dean’s forehead, they were back in civilization. Dean’s stomach gave an uneasy rumble, but he was pleased to see that they were standing in front of the Impala. Thank God for small mercies.

“What now?” Dean asked, getting into his car, while Castiel did his usual fussy thing and continued shuffling on the leather bench until Dean told him to knock it off.

“I can feel the connection between the Grace and its owner,” the angel replied, “I have found the human. I suggest we check.”

“Can’t you do it alone?” Dean whined but started his car. Playing driver to an angel was odd and tiresome too, but it had been him to insist on driving instead of angel transport before, so maybe he just had to shut up about it.

“I assume it requires human interaction.” The way Castiel said it, with that elongated sigh, sounded rather remorseful, as if humanity was a big inconvenience. Or at least the restriction on who was worthy of hearing him rumble a sentence or two was.

“Yeah, I guess?” Dean replied, “so we drive…” Castiel didn’t reply and Dean sighed. This would be a long journey.

 

* * *

 

Dean remembered a time when he was about 4 years old and Daddy took him to the zoo because Mommy was really busy with the new baby. But other than lions and elephants, the cages that Daddy had showed him held terrible things. Sitting on the shoulders of Daddy, Dean was staring into the faces of monsters, smelled the stench of rot and sulfur and Daddy said: “Look at that Wendigo, Dean, it runs really fast and only eats every few decades. One day you’ll be old enough to hunt it.”

“But why must I hunt it?” Dean had asked, tears already high in his eyes after seeing cages, devil’s traps and salt rings full of creatures.

“Because they’re monsters, Dean. They are not human like you or me. They are bad and you must kill them.”

 

* * *

 

There was something utterly ridiculous and probably highly blasphemous to have an angel wait by the sinks of a very disgusting restroom at a diner in the middle of nowhere. But Dean had to pee and Castiel just looked at him sharply when he had wanted to make him wait in the diner. With other people. People were always Castiel’s problem.

“Next town we stop, I’m gonna buy you something else to wear,” Dean said when he looked at the angel while washing his hands. Castiel tilted his head to the side and blinked at him. “Because you look like you walked out of your own funeral.”

“Those are the clothes Jimmy wears to Church,” Castiel explained and Dean rolled his eyes, muttering an annoyed “of course.”

“What’s,” Dean started, turning around to look at Castiel gazing about, “what’s Jimmy doing anyway while you’ve taken residence in his meat-suit?” The angel’s eyes focused on him again and Dean almost shied back at the intensity of the stare.

“Jimmy is semi-conscious. A host usually only perceives a fraction of what the angel inhabiting them does. Many things, like angelic flight, perception and emotion, can only be partially comprehended by the human brain… But the angel sometimes gets impulses from the vessel.” Castiel looked around with his nose slightly scrunched up. “Jimmy disliked the men’s restrooms.”

“Yeah, can’t fault him that,” Dean muttered and they got back into the diner where Dean ordered something to eat and Castiel refused any interaction (with humans and with food).

“Dude, you’ll only be on earth for a short while, right?” Castiel nodded, “so at least try a burger! I’m sure they haven’t been around the last time you were here!”

“There’s no need to eat. I don’t feel inclined to do it,” the angel replied and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Okay, so your friend…,” he prompted and Castiel watched him drink his beer before he answered.

“She’s been born as Anna Milton.” Dean snorted into his beer and coughed. “Her parents were barren. They must be good people that God guided her to them in her vulnerable state.”

“So, uh… He’s a chick now?” Castiel looked at him without replying. “I mean… Cause you’ve always use male pronouns when speaking about your friend… So I thought…” Dean stopped talking and shrugged. “Do you angels even have a gender?”

“In a sense we do, we procreate after all,” Castiel told him.

“You do?” Dean asked in surprise, looking up at once.

“We are a species, Dean… If our numbers dwindle, we breed.” Dean whistled, fascinated by the unexpected information. “When we walk the earth we adopt the gender of our vessels for practicality’s sake,” Dean nodded slowly, looking at Castiel as if he could see beyond Jimmy Novak if only he stared hard enough.

“So, whatever you are up in Heaven, you’re male now, right?” Castiel looked down at himself and the lack of an immediate answer confused Dean. “Your vessel’s male.”

“It does possess the anatomical make-up of one, but it’s more complicated than that.” Dean moved his mouth without speaking, trying to say something or at least just comprehend what Castiel was telling him.

“Dude, I don’t get you. How can it be complicated? You’re either male or female. And before you claimed that a vessel determines-“

“Yes, exactly,” Castiel replied evenly and Dean let himself fall against the backrest of the bench, the fake leather giving a loud squeaking noise of protest.

“Okay, whatever. Let’s just check Anna out,” Dean decided and slapped some bills onto the table. “And then you can go back to being a rainbow up in the skies.” Castiel didn’t say anything, but followed him.

 

* * *

 

**To:** Dad (john.winchester@srp-kansas.com)  
 **From:** Dean (d.winchester@aol.com)  
 **Date:** Tuesday, 09/23/03 17:03

**Subject:** New intel on angels

Dad. Sorry for driving off, hope you saw my text. Still doing angel business. Castiel told me some things you might find interesting:

He said angels are a species. They breed whenever they need to augment their numbers. Apparently angels can die? Maybe it’s just to replace fallen angels (they rip out their power source, fall to earth and get reborn as humans).

He said that when on earth they usually identify themselves and other angels with the gender of their vessel. I guess they’re the same as demon in that aspect. He’s been rather vague on his own gender though, didn’t say yes when I asked him if he was male even though Jimmy’s a dude.

Should I ask about mating or something? Feels a bit awkward though…

I’m sending this from the library, probably can’t access the internet before I’m back. Send me a text or call when something’s up?

Dean

P.S. Have you received Adam’s wish list I sent you? I’ve put a mark next to the things I think you could get him.

 

* * *

 

**To:** Dean Winchester (d.winchester@aol.com)  
 **From:** Adam (adam-milligan@yahoo.com)  
 **Date:** Monday, 09/22/03 18:27

**Subject:** Hi

Hey dean

When will you come home? You know it’s my birthday soon! I heard that there’s something odd going on in kansas was that why you left? I’m still pissed at you you know? You were supposed to watch my game on saturday and then there was that math test you said you’d help me with! I had to ask charles to help me ugh. Did you know that charles’ mom promised to buy him a cool car for when he turns 16? I told him to ask you about cars you’ll show him a good one.

And I recorded dr sexy for you but it was boring. How do you even watch that?

Come back soon

Adam

 

* * *

 

**To:** Jerk (d.winchester@aol.com)  
 **From:** Bitch (Samuel.winchester@standford.edu)  
 **Date:** Friday, 09/19/03 23:09

**Subject:** Seriously? Back to SRP?

You’re such an idiot. I hope a kelpie bites you in the ass.

Sam

P.S. What was that text about? If asking a dude out for a burger is gay? What the hell are you doing over there? And no – don’t be such an ass. If you want it to be ‘gay’ go ahead, but you can hang with guys without it being a blow to your macho ego. Who is it? Henrikson?

 

* * *

 

Dean groaned, raising his arms over his head. They were in a motel’s parking lot. Dean decided that whatever Castiel wanted to do about Anna Milton, it had to wait till the next day. Castiel didn’t seem unhappy about getting out of the car either and he followed Dean to the reception without any questions.

“King?” The guy at the reception asked, eying Castiel lingering by the door, then he smirked at Dean. Dean wanted to protest, but decided that it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t think Castiel needed sleep anyway.

“Yeah. You’re SRP approved?” Dean asked, looking for the certificate and the receptionist nodded, pointing the framed piece of paper. “Great.” Dean took the keys and turned to leave.

“And we’ve got sound-proof walls,” the receptionist called after him and Dean glared at him but only got a slightly creepy grin in return. There was a devil’s trap painted under the rug when Dean checked and for a moment he again wondered if Castiel would have any troubles against the warding. But he crossed the threshold and walked into the room without batting an eyelash.

“Is there actually nothing that can trap you angels?” Dean asked and Castiel moved his head about, taking in the 80ies flair of their room. Dean closed the door and saw a note stuck to the door.

_Built in salt-lines. Devil’s traps under all doors. Iron in window frames._   
_Holy water supply system triggered when level of sulfur content in the air rises._   
_Automatic warning system if temperature drops – salt and iron in the emergency box in the wardrobe._   
_If you have any concerns call reception._

“There are. But we’re very difficult to trap,” Castiel said and Dean wanted to go on asking, but the angel continued: “I appreciate your interest, but there is no need to contain us. We are no danger to humans.”

“To what then?” Dean wondered, deciding to ask about the trapping at a later time. It couldn’t hurt having something which he could use against him. Or at least angels in general. “It’s not as if you’re going around and protecting us humans, are you?”

“No,” Castiel agreed, “for the last 2000 years we’ve merely watched.” Dean sat down on the unexpectedly soft bed and unlaced his boots.

“Why? Aren’t you supposed to help us out? Smite some demons, kill some monsters, heal some people?” It came out with more venom than Dean had intended, but Castiel merely titled his head and Dean snorted.

“Dean. Humans are vastly different to us angels… Your world, life and death work differently than ours,” he heard Castiel explain, but totally didn’t feel like answering. “You have been created with the capacity of free will. If we were to interfere then we’d both disturb the natural order of things and diminish the meaning of your ability to make choices.” Dean lifted his head now, glowering at the angel, who did seem confused by the anger Dean displayed.

“You’re just making excuses,” Dean hissed, “if an innocent kid gets killed by a psychopath or torn to pieces by a monster, what choice would you take away from him by sparing his life? Shouldn’t you angels save the good guys?”

“We can’t, Dean. It’s not our place to interfere. A person’s choice will always have an effect on other people. If that innocent child’s time to die has come then it will die. If not, then it will be saved. That’s what we call the natural order.”

“That’s such crap,” Dean growled, grabbing a change of fresh clothes, “I’m gonna shower. You stay where you are!”

“Why are you so-“

“Shut up!” Dean slammed the door to the bathroom and heard nothing more of Castiel. The walls really were sound-proof.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, the angel didn’t try to bring the topic up again; not when Dean left him in the locked motel room to get something to eat, not when he made Castiel stand in front of the door when he went to sleep and not on the next morning either. Dean felt a mix of satisfaction and unease at the fact that he apparently was able to boss an angel around. Telling him to wait, to be silent, to go, to sit – those were all small things, small signs of obedience, but Dean was completely unused to it. Sure, his little brothers did sometimes do what he asked of them, but what he made Castiel do wasn’t all that reasonable.

“He isn’t human. It’s okay,” Dean reminded himself. “I’m his guide, he has do to what I say.” But it still felt odd to know that something that powerful trailed Dean like a stray kitten. But he could show signs of resistance:

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Castiel said as Dean pushed him into a clothes store. “Jimmy chose these clothes, they are adequate.”

“They’re not, dude!” Dean hissed, taking the stairs up to the men’s section. “People don’t walk around in suits unless they’re bankers or something. And you don’t look like one.”

“I’m an angel,” Castiel unhelpfully supplied and Dean rolled his eyes. He grabbed some normal jeans off a table. “I don’t know Jimmy’s size.” Dean uttered a sigh, swept a quick glance over the empty store and turned Castiel around. He pulled up the jacket of his suit and tugged at the pants to check the size tag. A bit smaller than Dean. And he wore purple boxer brief. He ushered Castiel to wait in one of the changing rooms as he collected clothes that had looked similar to the ones he’d first seen Jimmy wear. Dean was glad that Castiel didn’t need help changing because that had the potential to be really awkward. Especially as Dean’s thoughts went back to the question of Castiel’s gender. And what the hell should Dean do with that piece of information? A female angel? Or was there something about Jimmy’s body Dean didn’t know (he was sure there was a lot Dean didn’t know about Castiel’s vessel).

The sound of the curtain being swept to the side called Dean out of his thoughts and he turned around to look at the angel. He looked ridiculous.

“Okay, those are like two sizes too big,” Dean said and drew the curtain back before Castiel could say anything. “Just get out of them and I’ll get something smaller.”

“I find your insistence on changing clothes mildly irritating,” he could hear Castiel growl and Dean couldn’t help chuckling at that. Apart from his reluctance to get in the car, that was the first time Castiel’s voice actually carried some sort of graspable emotion.

The second attempt was far better but it made Dean shrink back slightly. Castiel actually looked really good in the tight jeans and an open cardigan over a simple grey shirt. He had abstractly known that Castiel was decent looking (Jimmy! _Jimmy_ was decent looking) but he was actually quite… pretty for lack of another word. And the fact that Dean noticed, coupled with the fact that Jimmy might have flirted with him before he decided to get swallowed up by an angel didn’t help at all. Jimmy was exceedingly pretty, Dean had noticed and now he was feeling squeamish about it.

“Okay, now you might pass for a human being,” he said when he felt the silence had been going on long enough. Castiel sent him an almost impatient look, but he retreated wordlessly.

 

* * *

 

Jimmy was laughing, hiding his face behind his hands in embarrassment. Bobby watched him closely from the corner of his eyes. He saw Amelia put her hands on his knees, one palm slipping up his thigh, and whisper something in his ear. Maybe she knew Bobby was watching. Jimmy knew that Bobby was always watching. It was his job. Amelia was a thin, tall woman, delicate but with hands that gripped tight and protectively when necessary. Before her Jimmy had never brought a girlfriend to Bobby’s place and Bobby had never asked.

He looked happy with her and Bobby turned his head away when Jimmy’s eyes met his. When Bobby watched their playful interaction he saw everything he wanted to see. But when Bobby really looked, he could still hear the echoes of what Jimmy had told him. Something Bobby didn’t understand. Something that made Jimmy’s face pale, his hands sweaty and his eyes wet. So Bobby looked away and didn’t let the whispered secret scratch at the happy surface. Jimmy never brought it up again until the day he decided he wanted to die.

 

* * *

 

Anna Milton attended the local college, had normal parents and normal friends. There was nothing worrying within the files Dean had managed to get by flashing his old SRP badge and dropping his Dad’s name for good measure when they complained that his ID was four years outdated and what did a SRP trainee hunter want with medical reports anyway?

Castiel was watching the students walk about campus in what he probably assumed to be an inconspicuous way. The uninhibited staring was odd though and had already made a number of girls pass with hushed whispers.

“Oh,” Dean muttered and Castiel stopped his slightly creepy vigil to sit down next to Dean. Dean noticed with an uncomfortable heat rising in his stomach that the angel was agreeably warm pressed close on the small bench. “It says there was a moment in her early childhood where she was seeing a child psychologist because she…” Dean stopped and frowned down at the reports. “Because she said her father wanted to kill her.” Castiel sighed, shaking his head, then he stood back up and looked out over the campus.

“So that’s suspicious to you? She seems perfectly normal otherwise. No records in the local SRP database either,” Dean insisted, looking at the print-outs.

“Yes… Heaven looks down on the Fallen. And it has happened before that they were either murdered for their trespasses or pulled back to Heaven by killing their human bodies.” Dean closed his files and looked up at the angel.

“Wow. Pretty medieval if you ask me,” he muttered and Castiel looked at him from out of the corner of his eyes for a moment before he continued staring at the college students.

“Well, we’ve had our Dark Ages too,” he said and Dean blinked up at him, then he laughed.

“Yeah… Point taken.”

“There she is,” Castiel said after a while and Dean got up at once, looking into the same direction as Castiel. Anna was a red haired beauty, so much was sure. Dean’s relief that he found her hot was rather short-lived because then Castiel stalked off and Dean got a good view of how the jeans made his ass look. And no. Dean rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head, then he hurried off to catch Castiel before he did anything stupid.

“Hey!” Dean called with a charming grin, grabbing Castiel and stepping in front of him before Anna had the chance to freak out about the wordless staring.

“Oh, hi!” she said and grinned at both of them, a small frown appearing when she looked at Castiel, but it quickly cleared up. For a moment Dean had thought she’d recognize him, but nothing of the sort happened.

“Sorry to bother you, Anna, right?” Dean asked and Anna nodded. “Do you have a minute? I’m Dean,” he said and then he nodded his head towards Castiel “and this is… Cas-… _Cas_. We’re from the Supernatural Research and Prevention Institute.” The easy smile slipped from Anna’s lips and she looked spooked for a moment, before she nodded slowly. “How about we talk about this over a cup of coffee?”

 

* * *

 

Castiel watched Anna, so changed from the last time she had seen her. The Grace was glowing warm and familiar in the pocket of Castiel’s jeans and Anna didn’t look unfamiliar, not even in this new vessel. But it was odd. There was no flicker of recognition in her, even though Castiel knew that Anna registered her presence as an abnormality, almost as if she could still feel that they used to be kin. Despite her human body, Anna didn’t have a real soul, the remnants of what she used to be were little fractured flickers of light dancing in her blood, glittering in her bones, shining in her eyes. An angel, all broken up and patched back together in a new body… Castiel found it almost painful to watch those little parts that were left; the phantoms of wings and divinity were moving sluggishly almost as if caught in the sticky molasses of borrowed humanity. Trying to reach out to the Grace glowing warmly in her pants’ pocket.

“So… Dean and Cas… What makes the SRP come and talk to me?” Anna wanted to know, but Castiel was not planning on answering, she merely looked at her. Anna shied back slightly and Dean raised his hand.

“Don’t worry about Cas, Anna. He’s not much of a talker. He’s a psychic of sorts and they usually are  an odd bunch.” Castiel frowned slightly at the lie, but at least it made her look away, studying the table top instead. Judged by the nudge Dean gave her that wasn’t preferable to the staring. “We just did some general research and stumbled over some of your data. Now we just wanted to make sure that there was nothing supernatural about-“

“You’re talking about that time when I was a little kid and kinda crazy?” Anna asked with a weary voice and huffed. “Look… I don’t even remember that. It was probably just a nightmare I had.”

“That’s fine… We’re more interested in what’s going on now,” Dean replied, “like… do you hear any odd voices or see odd things… Visions or something?”

“Voices? You’re implying that I’m a psychic or something?” Anna asked, laughing lightly and Castiel raised her head just in time to see Anna shake hers.

“No, not that,” Dean assured her. “It’s more that we’re thinking you might have an affinity to supernatural spheres, maybe you picked up on some vengeful ghost’s anger… It happens, especially with kids. So we just wanted to make sure that you… let’s say grew out of it.” Anna seemed calmer now and Castiel was glad that she indeed had Dean’s help. At least he knew enough about human behavior to get them the necessary information without being suspicious.

“Well… No voices… No visions… My parents are strictly anti-creature exposition so I’ve never been in contact with the non-human inhabitants of the world. At least not that I know of.”

“Non-human… what?” Dean asked, shaking his head with a grin and Anna rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. Castiel wondered what was going on when Anna seemed to be both angry and happy.

“Hey, it’s 2003, time to stop treating monsters like second-class citizens, right?”

“Well, if you keep that philanthropist – or, yeah, whatever – stuff to class-room theory, sure. But reality looks different. You can’t expect to go drink a coffee with a Strigha.”

“But you might go drink coffee with a shape-shifter. They don’t feed off humans in any way and they aren’t inherently evil,” she said and turned her eyes directly to Castiel. “You’re in closer contact, right? You must surely agree that just because they’re not human, they aren’t necessarily bad.” Castiel was surprised by the question and looked at Dean. Dean lifted his eyebrows at her, surely a gesture to encourage talking, but she couldn’t. She was here to make sure Anna didn’t have unnecessary access to anything celestial, chatting with one of the Host was not a good idea.

“Come on _Cas_ , don’t be shy,” Dean said, drawing out that foreign shortening of her name in ways that made her uneasy. She understood his need to make her pass for a human, but it didn’t sit so well with her, especially in company of the fallen Anna and the poor state of what remained of her angelic self.

“Human souls have the capacity of doing great good and great evil. Monsters that used to be humans are the same, but statistically speaking, most of them no longer realize that they have the option to continue being human. It is very difficult and most succumb to their twisted nature,” she finally said, keeping  her eyes mostly on Dean while she spoke. Anna thought about that for a moment and Castiel hoped that there was no more need for her to voice her opinion.

“I’d say it’s safest to be pre-emptive,” Dean said, then he clapped Castiel on the shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to leave though. In case anything comes up, why don’t you just give me a call?” Dean pulled a card out of his wallet and scribbled a number on it. Castiel watched him hand it to Anna with a wink that had the young woman bite down a giggle.

“I will! Thanks for the coffee, Dean, Cas!” Castiel didn’t say anything and rose when Dean did.

“What will you do now?” Dean asked once they were back outside, Castiel still looking at her lost sibling through the window of the tea room. “You didn’t even tell her what she used to be? I mean she might have wanted to return.”

“She made a choice, she can return once her human life is lived. So long I’ll keep her Grace,” Castiel replied. “You did well, thank you, Dean.” Dean seemed flustered and shrugged.

“Yeah, you too, Cas! You actually said something!” Castiel narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, come on! I’m sure you’re not going to get detention for speaking to Anna!”

“I won’t be punished but it’s not advisable. Especially since it could have triggered a connection with the spheres angels inhabit. I only did because you insisted,” she replied and Dean huffed.

“Now that you’re done here, what are your plans?” Dean asked her and Castiel gazed at him. “If you have none I’m gonna take you back before Dad goes mad.” Castiel didn’t find this course of action very desirable. She was done after all, but there was at least a small amount of gratitude she could show towards Dean for being her guide. So she got into the miniscule space of his car once again.

 

* * *

 

Dean was surprised that a few hours after he and Castiel had left Anna behind, he received a call from no other than Bobby Singer. Granted, he and Sam had spent some time with him when they were small and everyone else was busy hunting, but he hadn’t seen him much in the last few years. And Dean couldn’t quite forget the rather unpleasant hour of attempted counseling four years ago.

_“John forwarded me your mail,”_ Bobby said and Dean frowned, leaning back against the door of his car. He had stopped at the first chance he got and Castiel had taken the opportunity to get out. He was standing on a boulder not too far away, gazing out over the rather boring landscape.

“Uh, okay?” Dean muttered, unsure why this warranted a call. He tried to recall if he had written anything odd. Anything that could be interesting for the possession expert.

_“There was something about vessels,”_ Bobby reminded him and Dean remembered at once.

“Yeah, yeah. Cas said that they usually identified with their vessel’s gender, but why is that interesting to you? Should I ask him about something specific?”

_“No, you idjit, I don’t care one bit about angelic gender identity”,_ Bobby’s voice said and he sounded disgruntled, but worried as well. _“It’s just… Jimmy. He is a good kid. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay on your end…”_

“Uh… As far as I know Jimmy’s only half-aware of the things happening. But Cas hasn’t been doing anything odd like getting himself killed or doing embarrassing stuff.” Bobby huffed at that and Dean looked to where Castiel was now sitting down, his face turned enough for Dean to see his profile. And in this light- No, Dean really didn’t want to think about that right now. Castiel was a monster packed into nice human wrapping. No need to get worked up over it.

_“Okay… Good...”_

“I’m sure you’ll get Jimmy back in one piece, Bobby,” Dean assured him but there wasn’t an answer for quite a moment, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow. “Bobby? You there?”

_“That kid’s got a lot of problems… Returning from possession won’t do him any good…”_ Bobby’s voice was muffled and Dean strained to hear him.

“What are you talking about, Bobby?” Sure, there was something vaguely suicidal about what Jimmy did, but that didn’t have to mean anything, right?

_“I don’t know… Okay, listen, boy. Jimmy is special, alright? He’s not like normal guys… He’s very sensitive and… well… he has this…_ problem _… It’s not something I can deal well with and I’m afraid that I haven’t been helpful at all… So just make sure that angel of yours is taking good care of Jimmy, okay?”_

“Sure thing, Bobby,” Dean answered, unsure what else to say or what to think of how emotional the grumpy old man sounded. Bobby muttered something and then hung up. Dean frowned and put his phone into his pocket and gave a start when he looked up. Castiel was standing right in front of him, close enough for Dean to feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Jesus, Cas! Don’t creep up on me!”

“Apologies,” Castiel replied but didn’t move away. Dean rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “You seem troubled?”

“No. Just Bobby calling. He’s concerned about Jimmy.”

“Jimmy is sleeping,” Castiel replied, touching his chest and Dean noticed how nice his hands looked. He was no idiot, he knew when he was developing a crush, but why the hell did it have to be a dude and an _angel_ on top of that! An angel in a dude! “What?” Dean couldn’t help blushing when apparently even Castiel noticed his prolonged staring.

“It’s just. Sorry… Totally inappropriate and I probably shouldn’t even say it but you’re quite good-looking.” Just get it over with, Dean thought.

“Oh,” was all Castiel said for a moment, “I think so too. This body is quite appealing both by human and angelic standards I assume… It’s always been a promising blood-line.” The blood-line thing went straight over Dean’s head, but he latched on to the fact that Castiel didn’t think his interest smite-worthy. “Jimmy doesn’t like it though…”

“How so? There’s nothing wrong with it.” Apart from the ominous problem that made Jimmy fragile and Bobby fretful. “Or _is_ something wrong with him?” Dean asked, looking him up and down, more openly now. Which, Dean had to confess, did help the fluttering in his stomach quite a bit. Maybe it was just the forbidden, angelic thing that excited Dean. It’s just a handsome guy if you took away Castiel. Or something. Dean wasn’t sure yet what to think about his little man-crush.

Castiel looked at his palm.

“This is a difficult question to answer. From an outside perspective this body is perfect and it feels quite nice to be inside of.” Dean gave an involuntary shudder that he hoped Castiel hadn’t noticed. “But for Jimmy it’s not ideal… And just from the echoes of her thoughts I understand that she feels uncomfortable in it…” Dean lowered his eyebrows in confusion, wondering if he had misheard.

“Her… You said _her_ ,” he muttered and Castiel looked up at him. “Are you trying to tell me...” He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly _are_ you trying to tell me?”

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” Castiel said gently. Dean leant back against the still warm hood of the car, watching Castiel expectantly. The angel titled his head to the side, studying Dean. “One of the reasons Jimmy volunteered this body is because she considered it to be… faulty. She couldn’t understand why nature had given her the body of a man when she felt that she would need something else to be comfortable. I’ve tried to talk to her to reassure her that she isn’t wrong, but the words of one angel do not weigh much against the pressure of her environment… She told me that she was sure now that God doesn’t make mistakes, because her body had been made to house me all along…” Dean shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t agree with that conclusion…”

“So that’s what Bobby meant,” Dean muttered to himself and Castiel tilted his head at him. “Man, I… I mean I don’t get it, but still… that’s pretty tough for Jimmy I guess? Trapped in the wrong body? Man, I thought that only happened in soap operas…!” Castiel looked at him with mild confusion, but then he smiled. “What’s gonna happen to him once you’re out again?”

“I’m not sure… I’ll reward her for her service to Heaven, but I am not positive that the gifts I am allowed to bestow would benefit her… It’s not that easy, a new body won’t mean that her problems are gone…” Dean didn’t say anything and got back into his car.

“Well… Just take good care of… her, okay?” Dean asked and Castiel smiled at him, a genuine, affective smile that made Dean’s insides warm and mushy.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel promised and got into the car as well.

“Does that mean I have to start addressing you as a girl?” Dean wondered, eying Castiel as he got comfortable.

“No, I’m not really a woman, Dean. I don’t care about the pronouns,” he assured him and Dean nodded, unsure if he should feel relief. Nothing had changed. Or at least almost nothing he thought when he felt the weight of Castiel's gaze settling hot in his stomach.

 

* * *

Dad was tense and angry by the time Dean was back, finding him standing over his journal, with notes all strewn over the dinner table.

“Where’s the angel?” John demanded to know when Dean muttered a greeting and John found him without Castiel’s company. “You haven’t lost it, have you?!”

“No, sir,” Dean answered, squaring his shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d want him in your apartment.” John’s frown eased up a bit and he nodded.

“Where’ve you been anyway? I doubt you’ve taken a monster for a joy-ride,” he said with a snort and Dean rolled his eyes when his dad wasn’t looking.

“There was a reason Cas came here and he needed me to complete it. I told him he couldn’t fly back to Heaven just like that. He’s still here, don’t worry.”

“Good,” John said, slowly, cautiously, but he nodded at Dean. “There’s no guarantee that he’s the one and only angel that takes an interest in humanity. We should be as prepared as we can be. And you’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

“Yeah, but he’s-“ Dean stopped when John tossed him something. Dean found it to be a leather-bound SRP badge.

_Dean Winchester – Junior Hunter._

“Dad… Seriously? I quit before I took the exam! You can’t just-“

“You did all the preliminary stuff. And you’ve got the angel case, I think that’s good enough to be an official hunter,” his dad insisted and Dean opened and closed his mouth without bringing out one word.

He meekly thanked his dad and agreed to have a drink with “the guys” (whoever that was) at the weekend. He went to his room, locked the door and hid the badge under his pillow. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want to be a Hunter, but he still had started his internship right after high-school even though he could have gone to college. Three years and then he quit. Left Kansas, went to Michigan, started college. But then his mother got ill and he dropped out, did nothing, achieved nothing, wanted nothing. And here he was again. Pulled back into his father’s big dream of “the family business”.

_Devote your life to this one job. Study it. Catch it. Kill it. They’re monsters. They deserve to die. That’s your duty. Be a good son._

Dean hated it.

_To: Sam  
_ _I wish a Kelpie bit me in the ass._  
D.W: Junior Hunter.

The reply came only moments afterwards and it couldn’t sum this up any better:

_Shit_


	4. The Lament of the Chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the delay of chapters continues, this time becaues my beta caught a cold! Great thanks to Esmerod for still reading through this for me!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains references to past abduction and mentions of witnessing torture!

All those cold hallways and insignificant words. They couldn’t hear him. They couldn’t see him. That was what being a ghost felt like. That was what being a monster felt like.

Humans were that way. Humans got lost. Humans forgot.

You’re all not so different and we watch and wonder how you must have lost that piece of knowledge along the way. We come for all of you, to us you’re all the same.

One day I’ll be coming for you too, but not today.

There’s still something for you to do.

Dean closed his eyes to the high white walls disappearing into things too tall, too endless to comprehend. And he forgot. 

 

* * *

 

Grandma Deanna wasn’t pleased at all when Dean had to explain why he couldn’t come to work today.

_“You’ve got to be kidding me, boy!”_ Dean sighed, rolling his head on his too stiff shoulders. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Tossing and turning with the badge under his pillow digging into his neck.

“No. He just tossed me the badge yesterday. I’m supposed to be at SRP in a couple of minutes, working on “the angel case”. Man, I’m just-“

_“Dean,”_ his grandmother interrupted him and Dean came to a stop, listening to her sigh coming flat and tinny through the mobile phone. The building of the SRP was just across the street and Dean didn’t feel like going in at all, badge be damned. _“What you had to go through was exceptional but there’s no guarantee that it won’t happen again. John won’t let you be a junior Hunter for long. He’ll take you out into the field. He’ll make you hunt and kill.”_ Dean didn’t say anything for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah…,” he muttered, “but what should I do? This is the only thing I can do right now!”

_“That’s not true, baby,”_ Deanna replied and Dean cringed at the pet name. _“We’ll find you something else. You can do whatever you want to do. No hunting, no demons, no angels.”_ Dean didn’t say anything for a long while and Deanna sighed. _“How about you come round after work? I’ve bought the Dr.Sexy box of the first five seasons.”_

“What? Really?” Dean asked, laughing even as he crossed the street and approached the building.

_“Just don’t tell Samuel, he always gets embarrassed for my sake. But it’s not like I’m chewing his ear off when he hides in his study to watch Charmed.”_

“Oh, come on, seriously?” He passed the automatic doors and showed his badge to the security guy at the reception who nodded but made a motion to the mobile phone. “Sorry, gran, I’ve gotta go now!”

_“Sure, just don’t do anything stupid,”_ Deanna warned him, then they said their good-byes and Dean started his first day as a registered Hunter.

 

* * *

 

“I was gonna continue! I was gonna do whatever you said, because it was family! Wasn’t that what you always said?! I owed it to you, I owed it to my heritage! You needed me to be your good son! And I was gonna do it! I was going to pick up that fucking knife!”

“Dean!”

“You took three months to get to me! Three months! Were you even trying?! Why was it Grandma that got me and not you?! Where were you?!”

“We’ve been over this. We were doing-“

“You were _waiting_! What were the chances that I was going to die?! That I was already dead?! And you didn’t even try! I was _bait_! I was _information_! You always talk about family and responsibility, but you’ve got no right!”

“Don’t talk in that tone with me, Dean!”

“Okay, fine!”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Dean!”

“I’m done!”

 

* * *

 

Dean wasn’t even happy about lunch break. The morning had been spent by typing up all the information he had on Castiel, including most common angel lore, and filing it into a neat folder titled “Castiel. Angel. September 18th 2003” complete with the purple color code sticker for “unknown entity”. Dean had been given a nice looking office close to the Cage Room (not really a desirable location) and a lot of storage room. Apparently Dad expected him to fill it all with the trophies of his hunts; with reports on cases closed, with rare books on even rarer monsters, with certificates and medals and cursed objects to show off with his battle scars.

He spent his lunch break with a guy called Gordon Walker, a Hunter specializing in vampires that just got out of jail because he went on unauthorized hunts and broke even SRP’s quite loose rules concerning the ethics of monster treatment. By the time lunch was done Dean felt like he’d slipped right into a lunatic asylum. Even though their branch was mostly focused on research it went unspoken that the more monsters you helped catch and the more monsters you ended up killing, the better your reputation within the bureau. The louder you shouted “kill them all”, the higher your pay check at the end of the month. Dean was glad to go back to the quiet of his office and just focus on angels.

And then Jo Harvelle, one of the inters, came and piled more books onto his desk that had to be read and evaluated. Junior Hunter or not, he was still going to deal with a shitload of books.

“The angel’s not in the cage, have you transferred him elsewhere?” Jo wondered, lingering in Dean’s office.

“We don’t have the equipment to trap angels,” Dean muttered, leafing through an encyclopedia on angels complete with pictures of guys in flowing dresses. Jo snorted and Dean looked up at her. She was leaning against his door frame, her arms crossed. “What?”

“So why don’t you find out? I mean you’ve still got the upper hand, right? It’s only a monster.” Dean frowned, closing his book.

“I can’t just find out, it’s not like it’s something he talks about! So far he hasn’t been hostile, there’s no need to lose our heads over it.” Jo shrugged, but he saw in her expression that she was interested by what he’d told her. “There’s nothing to see in the cage room, why don’t you go back to your ghosts, Jo?” Jo rolled her eyes, but she didn’t say anything and left Dean to his own work. He sighed, leaning back in his chair to wipe his face.

Was that what everybody thought? That they had any power over Castiel simply because they were human and he was not? As if that made him weaker and submissive, if anything, being a monster made Castiel superior in power. Dean decided that Jo had probably wrong ideas about the supernatural because of the zoos and monster shows. Not everything was docile or beat into submission; they dealt with real monsters, real ghosts, real demons. And they didn’t give a damn about how humans should have the upper hand. No real demon would cower just because he was put in a devil’s trap. They were still... Dean shook his head.

He wanted to go back to his dusty books and Bible excerpts when suddenly the siren startled him. It was not the fire alarm, so much was sure, it was the howl of the supernatural alarm. Either they brought in a high-level demon, something triggered one of the alarms when trying to get into the building or… something escaped. 

Dean hadn’t received his weapons yet, so venturing out of the office to check was probably not that good of an idea. But he did so anyway when he heard shouts and screams from down the corridor. He headed towards the cage room, still the safest place in the SRP. But when he got there he realized that he was wrong. The devil’s traps were messed up, large cracks going through the concrete. People where lying on the floor, read streaks mingling with the painted lines of worthless symbols. John wasn’t here, no one was here, but motionless people. He could see Jo, so close, a wound on her forehead, unconscious or dead. Barely time to get a bearing to know what he was up against, a force slammed into Dean, throwing him against the wall. For a moment Dean thought that this was it, his punishment for not staying away. Alastair coming to state his claim on him. But it wasn’t him.

A young woman, with short blond hair cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Where’s John Winchester?” she asked, her mouth pulling into a smile.

“Go to hell!” Dean hissed, but then he felt a weight pressing against his chest and he choked, gasping for breath but coughing blood instead.

“My, my. How impolite you are.” she took a step closer and Dean could smell the stench of sulfur. “Aaaah. You must be Dean. Pretty little son Daddy Winchester has got here. What a pity that when he finally gets here you’ll be nothing more than a splatter of blood on the wall.”

“S…,” Dean gasped, “C… Ca…” The demon’s eyes flashed black and her grin widened as the pressure on his chest increased.

“Calling for Mommy?” The demon teased and Dean grit his teeth, trying to get enough air into his burning lungs to wheeze out one single name:

_“Castiel!”_

The demon looked puzzled for a moment, but then there was a bright light and she screeched. Dean slipped to the floor, the pain in his body making him black out for a moment. Light flashed before his closed eyes and he sluggishly opened them again only to see the enormous shadow shapes of wings thrown over the entire hall. White, long walls and dark shifting shapes, incomprehensible. Dean felt like a lost child. It was familiar, disconcertingly so. The demon screamed as Castiel grabbed for her forehead and black smoke poured out of her open mouth. Castiel watched it stream upwards but then he opened his mouth to a glass shattering, mechanical sounding screech and Dean saw a symbol like a devils trap burn into the ceiling and the smoke of the demon burned up, returning to hell.  

The next thing he knew was the soft press of warm fingers on his forehead and he could breathe again.

 

* * *

 

John Winchester returned from an interrogation close by to a state of chaos at the SRP. He’d received warning that an unknown entity had infiltrated the building, triggering their demon alarm. Cracked floors and walls to destroy the inbuilt salt, iron and devil’s trap barriers. It must have been powerful, possibly an attack from within. The only reasonable explanation was that the so-called angel must have done it. People shouted information at him as he hurried through the corridors. 3 dead, 10 wounded, including his son, wards still broken, cage room sealed off.

When John rushed into the infirmary the first thing he did was shoot a round of blessed bullets into the angel. Castiel seemed slightly surprised at first, rising before the first bullet hit. Then he tilted his head and waited for John to be done. John just glared at him and took out another gun with other ammunition. Only when a fist connected with John’s jaw did he stop. He turned his head to find Bobby glaring at him.

“You piece of shit! He’s not the one responsible for this! It was a demon! It came for you and got into a killing spree because you weren’t there! It was the angel who prevented more deaths! The one of your son included!” Bobby shouted and John frowned, looking to the bed where Castiel had kept his vigil. Dean was sleeping in it, apparently unharmed, but not conscious either.

“Is that true?” John demanded, but didn’t receive an answer from the angel. Castiel merely sat down again, keeping his eyes on Dean. John snorted and turned towards Bobby. But the counselor spoke before he could, his voice quivering with anger.

“You’ve pulled your boy back in. And he got hurt again, he almost died again! And where were you?” John glared at him and Bobby snorted. “Of course. The job is more important than keeping your eyes on your own flesh and blood.” With this Bobby turned away, walking to the bedside of a crying, young blonde woman. John looked at the unmoving form of his son and the angel watching over him.

 

* * *

 

From the other side of the room Bobby observed the creature. Even though it was Jimmy’s body, the angel looked different. When nobody was around to see him, Jimmy retreated into himself, he became small, inconspicuous. He moved like a ghost. Castiel was different. He had a presence that filled the room even when he held himself in the background. He sat vigil at Dean’s bed, patient, unmoving and silent.

“Hey.” Bobby had expected the angel to ignore him, but Castiel lifted his head and looked up at him. For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Castiel’s eyes were focused on him and Bobby had to force himself not to look away or to cave under the guilt those blue eyes made him feel. “I really wish you weren’t here,” he started and Castiel tilted his head. Bobby held up his hand. “I know you can’t talk to me, just listen!” Castiel didn’t react and Bobby took a breath. “I’m glad you protected the kid, really, and John’s too, even though he won’t say anything. But you don’t belong here… I’m… This body you’re using, it’s not yours. It’s Jimmy’s and I want him back. Okay? I know I’ve made mistakes with him, I know I’ve said just about everything wrong when it gets to him, but… Please. He’s my boy and I can’t lose him… Not before I haven’t driven it into his skull that he’s perfect… Just the way he is and-“ Bobby’s voice broke off and he looked down, where Castiel had taken hold of his hand. His palm was warm and his fingers gentle. Castiel gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, before he let go again to put his palm on Dean’s forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles there. Bobby didn’t know what to say and dropped into the nearest armchair, staring at the angel.

“You know… For a monster you’re awfully kind,” he said after a few minutes had passed and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that Castiel’s mouth pulled into a smile.

 

* * *

 

When Dean woke the lights were dimmed. He turned his head away from the white ceiling and saw Castiel sitting on the chair next to his bed, looking at him calmly.

“H… Hey, Cas,” Dean muttered and Castiel reached out to help him sit up, but Dean waved him off. “I’m alright. Strangely.”

“I’ve healed your injuries,” he replied and Dean rubbed his eyes. He was still tense, even though his body was feeling relaxed and sluggish.

“Thank you,” he replied and looked at Castiel, seeing him nod, “what happened?” Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but then the light was suddenly flipped on and John walked into the room. Dean immediately straightened. His father didn’t appear to be hurt, but he didn’t look all that good either. Probably he hadn’t slept one bit.

“Dean, you’re awake.”

“Yes,” he replied, but didn’t move out of the bed. He noticed that Castiel was not looking at his father, still keeping his attention on Dean.

“Good. Because without you the angel won’t talk,” Dad continued and Dean frowned, looking from Castiel to his Dad and back. “From the possessed girl we’ve got nothing useful but that the demon left her.”

“And you think Cas knows something you don’t?” Dean asked doubtfully . Dad lowered his eyebrows and approached enough so that he could grab the footboard of Dean’s bed. That didn’t help to ease Dean’s tension.

“Yes, for example how the demon got in. She can’t have done it without help,” Dad said and glowered at the angel reproachfully. “And why he didn’t kill her. I’m sure angels have the power.” Dean stared at him in disbelief.

“Dad, Cas has nothing-“

“So, then why doesn’t he talk?” John countered and Dean stopped speaking. Dean turned to look at Castiel, who seemed completely unfazed by the conversation. “Just ask him.”

“Cas, what exactly happened?” Castiel tilted his head slightly and Dean thought that he wasn’t going to reply, but eventually he did:

“This demon seemed to be an affiliate of Azazel. Apparently she held a grudge against your father.”

“Who’s Azazel?” John demanded and Dean almost groaned. Why did he have to be mediator between the two? Castiel answered straight away though:

“Azazel is a high ranking demon. We’ve watched his proceedings for some decades now. John Winchester has been trailing him for a while.”

“That’s not very helpful. I’ve been trailing a lot of demons,” John said with a snort. Castiel didn’t say more on it and John gave a frustrated groan.

“Uhm. So, you can kill demons?” Dean wondered and Castiel nodded, “but you didn’t kill her?”

“I banished her.”

“People died because of her! Many are injured!” Castiel completely ignored John, but he answered Dean:

“If I burn the demon out with my Grace, its host will die too. I assumed that would not be something you appreciated.” Dean couldn’t help smiling at that.

“Yeah. You did well, Cas,” he replied and Castiel actually seemed pleased with that even though John snorted. “Hey, what… What about Jo? I saw her on the floor, bleeding. Is she…”

“She’s unconscious, but alive. She might wake up or she might not. There were a lot of causalities,” John told him, then he paused and looked Dean up and down, “but you’re fine.”

“Yeah, Cas healed me,” he said almost defensively and noticed immediately that this had been a bad thing to say. Not because Castiel reacted in any way (he didn’t) but John straightened and set his eyes on Castiel. “Dad-“

“I’m sure you can even revive the dead. Go, do it!” he commanded but Castiel didn’t move. “Dean!”

“Cas…?” Dean asked hesitatingly and Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, before looking at him again. “Hey, I know that you’re not supposed to interfere, but you healed me too.”

“You’re different,” Castiel said and Dean didn’t know what to do with that.

“Come on, I’m not worth more than the others,” he protested weakly.

“You are to me. Right now. I’m allowed to make exceptions for you. Only you. I can’t revive the fallen and I can’t heal the injured.”

“You’re one soulless son of a bitch, aren’t you?” John demanded and Dean wanted to protest when Castiel actually looked straight at his father.

“I am an angel. I do not possess a soul,” he replied dispassionately. “I am not a guardian, I am a soldier. It is not my duty to fight your battles.” John didn’t say anything to that, but glared at Dean as if Castiel’s refusal was somehow his fault.

“I’ll be in my office, taking care of informing the relatives,” he said, eyes boring straight into Dean’s, then he left without another word. Dean slumped down on the bed once his father was gone and pressed his knuckles to his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he heard Castiel ask and took one hand away to peep up at him. “I apologize if my reluctance is distressing, but there are rules I need to follow… I told you-“

“About the natural order of things and free will, yeah, I got that,” Dean muttered, heaving himself up on his elbows again, looking at the angel. “But I don’t understand why you’re making an exception for me.”

“Because,” Castiel started and reached out. Dean flinched back and Castiel didn’t try to touch him again, putting his hand back in his lap. Dean regretted it immediately, but didn’t know what to do about it unless reaching out himself. “You’re special Dean… You’ve been chosen.” A shiver went down Dean’s spine. He had heard that before, lovingly whispered as a knife was gently drawn over his lips.

“But where’s _my_ free will in that? I don’t want to be chosen!” he hissed and Castiel lowered his eyebrows, squinting at Dean. “Look, Cas. People died here. Those were unnecessary deaths. You can heal with the touch of your fingers! You can probably do all kinds of miracles!”

“I can, but I also can’t… Dean… We angels are an old species, there is so much we can do, but we mustn’t. We don’t want to destroy our father’s creation by trying to intercede with its natural course. We don’t have free will like you do; we can’t exert our power however we like.” Dean just shook his head, but he understood. It was frustrating, but he understood.

“Okay…” He fell silent, then he lowered his head. “I was supposed to meet my grandmother.” Castiel nodded wordlessly and got up when Dean did. But other than Dean he didn’t leave. When Dean turned he saw the angel standing by the bed of someone else. Just watching, silent, unmoving. A soothing presence even though he couldn’t help. Dean switched off the lights.

 

* * *

 

Business went on as usual after the incident over at SRP. It was covered up pretty well, so Dean didn’t have to deal with worried phone-calls from anyone. His father immersed himself in work in his usual obsessive way while repairs were going on and Dean was back to the silence of the Campbell archive. His office was too close to the cage room and the noise level was almost unbearable, so even though he had more books and reports piled on his desk he was pretty content.

“Kind of idiotic to read books on angels when there’s an angel sitting just opposite me,” Dean muttered, loud enough to get Castiel to look up. He was reading a book on summoning spells.

“I assume your father wants you to find information relevant to hunting us,” Castiel replied dryly.

“Well I don’t. Can’t trap, can’t kill is more than we had before you appeared,” Dean said and Castiel’s mouth twitched slightly. “Just… You said you’d answer my questions, right?”

“Yes.” Castiel put down the book and took a seat next to Dean, looking at him. There were several questions stuck in Dean’s mouth, but now that the angel was so close – thin limbs, soft lips, bright eyes – all he wanted to ask about were stupid, invasive things. He wanted to know about angelic sex, he wanted to know about mating and mates and baby angels. The image of delicate, gentle fingers wrapped around him haunted him in his fantasies and he heard echoes of Castiel’s voice over his own panting. And Castiel just watched him with mild curiosity, if he was aware of the places Dean’s mind wandered to at the moment he didn’t let anything on.

“Uh-“ Dean lowered his head, searching for something important to ask. “What are you guys doing anyway? You said you’re soldiers. But if you don’t fight demons…”

“Yes. Though I was being overly general for the sake of the argument,” Castiel admitted and Dean huffed a surprised laugh. “Angels are structured in a strict hierarchy of different classes and positions within the Host of Heaven. We are all created or born, as in my case, with a specific intent. A purpose if you so will. My purpose is linked to humanity. We don’t interfere anymore, not like we did in the past. We watch and make sure you as a species continue to prosper.”

“But if you’re tasked to do that, then why don’t you interfere more? Make a few people happy, be guardian angels or I don’t know, smite some demons.” Castiel smiled at that. “I could really have used someone to guard me in the past.” Dean watched the smile slip from Castiel’s lips and regretted saying anything. Silence fell heavily between them, the computer making whirring sounds and one of the lamps at the far end of the room sputtered.

“Dean… Things that happen to you, be they good or bad, were supposed to be. I understand that you don’t appreciate the way-“ Dean slammed his fist on the table and a book dropped onto the floor. The silence was back, but now it was not only heavy but also sharp with tension. Castiel had narrowed his eyes and studied Dean with an unsettling intensity.

“So if it was destiny, then what the hell has happened to free will? That doesn’t quite work together, you know?” he spat, the least threatening thing he could say right now. Castiel didn’t think about that long before he answered:

“The decisions you make on your way through life are your own. Every single human has his place in the tapestry woven by Fate.” Dean just shook his head. This was not an explanation, this didn’t make sense. This wasn’t free will.

“If we’re just that – threads in the tapestry of Fate – then what point is there in hoping? What point is there in fighting? In praying, in _God_. Huh?!” Dean stared at the angel, unmoved and undisturbed by Dean’s rage. “This is all bullshit! There’s only bad in this world.  Nothing good ever happens! Not even _you_ are good and you’re an angel! You just brought me right back here with your Righteous Man crap!”

Dean gave a start when he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Castiel’s hold on him was strong but also surprisingly gentle, a hand-print shaped core of warmth and eyes that looked concerned even though Dean knew that deep down Castiel couldn’t care because he didn’t understand. Angel brains must be different, bigger, purer. How inconsequential Dean’s pain must be, how meaningless his attempts to bury everything and still failing. To an angel, all this didn’t seem to matter. It was all Fate. It was all meant to be. Dean wished that he could be as simple as an angel.

“I never meant my presence here to be a burden to you,” Castiel said and it sounded remorseful. Dean just shook his head and said nothing. “Do you…” Castiel took away his hand and studied Dean with a head-tilt. The angel lowered his eyes and the next Dean knew was the sound of flapping wings and looking at an empty chair. Dean exhaled a shaky breath, feeling drained.

* * *

 

For a long time Mary had thought that the greatest danger to her children was her family.

Her daddy had sat with her, looking over colorful parchments, Mary’s little finger tracing the lines like a path on a treasure map. All the way back, way, way back the lines went, past names and numbers.

“We were always Hunters, we’ve always killed monsters,” her daddy said when he showed her weapons and taught her secret spells and incantations Mary sang while other girls her age recited children’s songs. “We’ve always protected humans,” her mommy said instead and she continued saying it, but somehow she had always believed more in what her father said.

Until John, who was righteous and good and not weighed down by age old duty. Until she had children of her own and John started whispering things into their little ears. Yellow eyes’ attempted assault on them had changed something in John. But she had broken the tradition, put away knives and guns, holy water and silver bullets. And she decided that her job was to protect, not to kill. She was a Winchester now, she was done with the skeleton shadows of the ancient, cursed family tree hanging over her head.

The Winchesters were honest people, civilians with good professions. Safe professions.

It was so ironic. She had thought about demons snatching her babies. She had thought about ghosts, ghouls and all the fanged, clawed, vicious things that could drag them away into nothingness.

She hadn’t thought about the dangers of her husband’s workshop. She hadn’t thought to find her baby lying on the floor, white, wheezing because of something as mundane as spilled water and electricity. A civilian accident in a civilian surrounding.

It pushed her son to the brink of death.

It pushed her husband to look for faults in the supernatural.

It pushed her to do the one thing she had vowed to do: Protect her family.

 

* * *

 

Dean wanted to call it a day and go home early even though the books were still stacked into taunting piles. He was just too tired to get anything done today. Maybe it’d be nice to just go to a bar, have a drink even though it was barely 2 in the after-noon, and hope that dad wasn’t home yet. He could do with a long bath were the silence hopefully wasn’t as oppressive as here. And maybe he’d think of blue eyes and beautiful lips.

“Dean.” Dean gave a start when Castiel appeared right in front of him, just as he was about to ascend the stairs out of the archive. Dean cursed, taking a step back, but then he noticed what Castiel had in his hands. Bags with the logo of a diner he and Castiel had been to on the way back after checking out Anna. And by the smell of it the bags contained that absolutely delicious burger.

“What’s that, Cas?” Castiel shifted on his feet and Dean was surprised to see that happen.

“I assumed that I could not be a burden, but do something good for you,” the angel said and Dean widened his eyes. “But there isn’t too much I’m allowed to do… Maybe this doesn’t suffice.” 

The laughter that came out of him even took Dean by surprise. He grabbed the bags and looked inside.

“No, that’s just what I needed,” he said and grinned up at Castiel. The angel was hesitant to react with a smile of his own, so Dean patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel replied, smiling slightly. Dean took a seat on the stairs, too lazy to walk back to the desk, and unwrapped his burger. The first bite was pure bliss and he moaned in delight. Castiel took a seat next to him and Dean didn’t even care about the staring.

“Dean… What has happened to you?”

“What?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger, turning his head to look at the angel. Castiel was serious, his eyebrows draw up slightly and Dean couldn’t help the feeling that he was worried. Dean smacked his lips and licked his fingers, trying to figure out what to say. He went for a hollow chuckle.

“Don’t you know everything about me?” he asked, “you’ve decided that I’m your Righteous Man, so you probably know your way around my soul or something.”

“We feel how a person is, Dean. We’re supposed to pick up on innate goodness, just like we pick up how close someone is to fall into damnation… I know that you’re righteous, but I don’t know what has happened to you to make you worthy… Or bitter.” Dean looked at Castiel, then he turned back to his burger and fries. Castiel didn’t seem put off not to receive an answer and some minutes passed in silence while Dean finished his late lunch.

“I don’t understand how I can be righteous,” Dean finally said and balled the wrapping paper in his fists. “I mean, it’s not as if I’ve done a lot of good. All I remember are things I’ve done wrong…” Castiel didn’t interrupt him so Dean kept fidgeting with the wrapping. “And I’m not just thinking about stealing a skin mag or two, or dropping out of college. I assume those aren’t exactly meaningful things to angels anyway.” He looked at Castiel and found his undivided attention on him. Castiel looked genuinely interested in listening to Dean ramble. Dean rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. “Shit… I don’t usually talk about this stuff.”

“Angels are good listeners, Dean,” Castiel told him and cocked his head slightly. “Besides, it’s a Thursday.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked with a light confused laugh. “Office hours on Thursday, Mr. Angel?”

“Prayers uttered on a Thursday go through me,” Castiel said and leaned a bit closer. Dean almost reeled back to have Castiel so close to him, but the angel smiled and moved his lips to Dean’s ears. “Your confession is safe with me.” Dean shivered, kind of appalled that this managed to turn him on.

“O… Okay,” he muttered and Castiel retreated, but he was still close enough that it’d only take minimal effort to kiss him. Dean didn’t though, because the quiet promise to have someone listen to him was… well, people had tried before. But he couldn’t open up about this to anyone, not even grandma and his silence had led to speculation and people avoiding the topic like the plague while still managing to be pitying. “Do you know Alastair?” Castiel frowned, but he nodded.

“Hell’s torture master… It is disquieting that you know of him.” Dean nodded. “We have noticed that he must have left Hell not too long ago, but he has hid himself well… And his presence no longer lingers here.”

“Yeah… We’ve sent him back to Hell…” Dean muttered, “well… Not I…” He felt Castiel’s eyes on him and he lowered his head. “I was on my way home from SRP after a late night researching for the exam… I noticed nothing… One second I was walking down the street and the next I’m in that… that room…” Castiel didn’t say anything and Dean realized that his was it; this was his confession. This was his first prayer for help after the months in that abandoned asylum. “First I thought a serial killer got me, but Alastair…” Dean couldn’t help laughing at how absurd it was. “Well, he kind of was, right? But he didn’t do anything to me. He told me I was chosen for a great purpose. That I had it in me to change the world. And he showed me. Each and every day. He’d take me into his chamber where a demon or something else supernatural was strapped to a rack. And he’d torture them. He showed me all the ways to break a demon, all the weapons you could use, all the ways you could inflict the worst pains before you killed. And after every day he said: Pick up the knife, Dean. If you show me how much you’ve learnt I’ll let you go.” Dean had shredded the wrapping to small bits between his sweaty fingers and he let the remains drop to rub his face. “And I said. No. No, I won’t do it. And every time I thought this was it. He’s going to kill me now, use all those things on me. But he never did. He just patted me on the head or pinched my cheeks and sent me to my room.” Dean couldn’t look at Castiel anymore, didn’t even care if anyone was sitting next to him and listening. He didn’t even care that his eyes stung and the words came out sounding wrong and wet. “More than three months passed and I just wanted to go home… I couldn’t stand it anymore. Nobody came for me. Nobody. It was just Alastair, me and the poor bastard he had on his rack. And I realized that I would stay there for the rest of my life. I was ready to do it… I was so tired.” He shook his head. “But before I could say I’d do it, I was freed. I never talked much about what happened. I only said that I learned how to torture. In theory of course… Everyone tried to get me to talk, but I didn’t want to… I continued a bit, but then I quit. It was just… hypocrisy you know? Dad’s way of dealing with this all. Not coming to get me, insisting on family and I wanted to start torturing for him, get information the hard way. But… Next to all that mess Dad’s affair got out and I just couldn’t anymore. You know? It just seemed pointless to try working so hard and sacrificing so much for him…” Dean didn’t exactly feel better now that he’s said it and brushed the tears away from his face. He turned his head to where Castiel was still looking at him, no judgment or pity on his face. “So… I don’t understand how you would want me…”

“Dean,” Castiel started, then he moved, slowly, crossing the distance inch by inch and Dean felt soft lips pressing against his forehead.

“I just… I just feel like shit,” Dean managed to say, his fingers grabbing for the cardigan Castiel wore, tugging, holding on almost desperately. “It’s been years and I still can’t-“

“I am sorry that this happened to you,” Castiel whispered, his lips still on Dean’s forehead and Dean slipped his hands under Castiel’s cardigan, craving warmth and acceptance. “You did not deserve it but sometimes bad things happen to good people… You are saved now, Dean. You are good and worthy in my eyes. Don’t weigh yourself down with this.” Castiel was slim under the hesitant touch of Dean’s palm and he didn’t recoil when Dean lifted his head, searching Castiel’s soft lips with his own.

“Cas…,” he whispered finding the angel unresisting and accommodating. But then Castiel touched his fingertips to Dean’s chin, drawing back slightly and his tongue slowly licking his lower lip. God, Dean wanted to kiss him so bad, he wanted to wrap himself up in that silent, warm presence and just feel save and accepted. Castiel tilted his head down slightly and Dean saw the fan of his dark eyelashes as he lowered his eyes. His fingers caressed Dean’s chin, then the line of his jaw until Dean pressed a kiss to the slightest crease between his eyebrows. “Kissing an angel… That’s probably a sin according to your rulebook,” Dean whispered and felt Castiel raise his brows.

“I don’t think so,” Castiel replied and Dean withdrew, laughing lightly. Then he put his hands in his neck and sighed.

“Thanks, man… For listening… I do feel better now.” Castiel smiled and Dean looked at him from slightly lowered eyes. “And… for the kiss.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said and got up from the stairs, walking over to the desk where he resumed studying the book he had previously read. “If you feel the need to just talk, be sure that I’ll listen to your prayers.” Dean chuckled, leaning back against the hard edges of the concrete steps. The light bulb in the distance flickered, a dull buzzing noise and Dean closed his eyes to the quiet, dry turning of the pages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this story written early on in the season, it disregards new info we received on the Winchester side of the family. Which is a pity, because I’ve got a huge crush on Henry Winchester.  
> Also, I feel a bit sorry for the way I write John. I know that he loved his sons, but this works with the John that doesn’t answer when Dean calls him on the verge of tears and the John that doesn’t come to help when Dean was dying and the John that demands Dean to kill him when Yellow Eyes took possession of him. The demanding John, the obsessed John. I wish I could put some loving John too…
> 
> Next chapter should wrap this story up! Maybe I’ll feel the need to add a few scenes and make it two more chapters. We’ll see! :D


	5. The Restoration of Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter needed a bit more editing work to wrap things up, so I apologize for the wait. Thanks to my beta, Esmerod, for taking care of superfluous repetitions amongst other things!
> 
> This is the last chapter. Thank you for reading! ♥

The week passed rather eventlessly and Dean had to go back to his office in SRP after the repairs were done. Jo had mostly recovered , but her mother had forced her to quit her internship and Dean almost missed her peeking into his office just to annoy him. As far as Dean knew the possessed girl had seen Bobby twice but had been deemed stable enough to return to her family. The rest of the injured were all fine considering the circumstances, some were already back at work. The dead remained dead and the conversations around the cage room were more hushed than ever. The gold framed pictures of the fallen hunters, added to the long line in the entrance hall, were a very small comfort for the relatives and Dean passed meekly, feeling their reproachful eyes on him.

John was alternatively giving Dean the cold shoulder for his inability to force Castiel to perform miracles and being overly pushy about the angel. Especially when Castiel wasn’t within the useless cages the SRP provided.

“He’s a subject of the SRP. He can’t just fly around! He’s your responsibility! Keep him on a tight leash! And find out how to do something about his species!” But since John had gone on another quest for the holy grail (either to try to catch Yellow Eyes or to find the elusive demon killing Colt, Dean didn’t care as long as John didn’t get himself killed) Dean had a relatively easy time to regain his footing in SRP. It wasn’t exactly like he wanted to become a part of the tight knit hunter community and people shot him looks during lunch breaks that Dean didn’t quite know how to interpret. He was John and Mary Winchester’s boy, a Campbell kid that had passed the entrance test with a perfect score and everybody had thought that by 24 he’d have revolutionized the way people dealt with the supernatural. Or at least that’s how some of the stares of the hunters felt to him; disappointed. The others were just suspicious, probably because he received special treatment from a monster. So Dean stuck to his office, the dusty archives and the hall where the panic room stood.

Dean was rather surprised though when he walked into the cage room to paint a new symbol on the wall and found Castiel crouching down in the middle of the room, studying the rebuilt floor and the red lines of the devil’s trap.

“Cas! Hey!” The angel looked up and Dean flinched when his call roused the interest of some other people. But Castiel looked so ordinary that nobody who hadn’t been here at Jimmy’s possession would recognize him as a supernatural being. “Dude, what are you doing here?” Castiel rose and tilted his head slightly.

“I thought that maybe I could help you secure this room,” he said. Dean just nodded dumbly and Castiel got to work drawing flowing lines and circles. Dean diligently copied them and Castiel’s explanations into his notebook. Castiel’s work attracted some attention as well, but everyone kept out of Castiel’s way, studying the signs and symbols and discussing their effectiveness.

“Dean?” Dean looked up from his notebook at the silent call of his name. Castiel was looking at him and Dean lifted his eyebrows in question. Castiel took a breath, but then got closer to Dean, taking the notebook out of his hands. “Draw this in blood and push your hand into the center,” he explained, drawing steady lines on the white parchment. “This sigil banishes angels.” Castiel put the pencil on the next page. More lines flowed from the pen. “Draw this on your door and an angel will not be able to find you. And this one is a stronger ward against demons, not even Alistair should be able to break through this.”

“Why are you giving me this, Cas?” Dean asked in awe when Castiel seemed to be done.

“Because I cannot guard you forever,” was all Castiel said, then he turned away and walked into the panic room. Dean was left to ponder the significance of receiving such secret knowledge. Especially since Castiel had been very reluctant to share any information that had the potential to be damaging to his own species (and with good cause too.)

“Hey, Dean!” One of the hunters had approached him, studying the panic room where Castiel was drawing his palms over the salted iron. “Who’s that Cas guy? Is he’s new?”

“Huh? What? No, he’s not working for SRP… He’s just… A friend,” Dean mumbled, sure that the truth shouldn’t get out yet. “Psychic of sorts,” Dean added. The hunter looked impressed, crossing his arms as both of them watched Castiel drawing lines on the walls with chalk.

“Those are some damn intricate designs your friend drew for us. Try to recruit him, will you?” The guy patted Dean on the back, his palm heavy with expectation, then he return to his business. Dean sighed. A supernatural being working together with hunters; that would make the head-lines.

 

* * *

 

It was odd how Castiel started hovering around Dean in ways that he hadn’t before. In the week between Dean’s confession and Castiel’s appearance in the bureau Castiel had stayed in the Campbell library unless Dean had asked for him. Now Castiel sat with him when Dean sorted the books or when he wrote reports for other hunters. Castiel walked the rounds of checking the sigils with him. He was a silent companion when Dean worked with his grandmother.

It should have been fine because John wasn’t there, but it made Dean nervous. Hunters were suspicious by nature, they always asked questions. The excuse of a gifted friend was not thought through enough to convince people if Castiel actually stuck around. There were people who knew what Castiel was and they either recoiled or attacked, once someone had even triggered the alarm. People started to murmur and the tension rose. And the angel was oblivious to the discomfort he created.

“Dude…,” Dean said, pulling Castiel aside when they left the building. It was finally weekend, two days off from SRP duties, and Jo had cancelled their not-date at her mother’s bar. Dean was pretty sure it was connected to all that talking about him letting a monster loose in SRP. Hunters didn’t like toeing the clear cut line between good and evil, between human and monster. And while they were chilly but civil to him during office hours, he imagined that they were less than friendly when he met them at the bar.

This all led Dean to feel totally isolated and being forced to have this awkward conversation.

“Really, you’ve got to stop it,” Dean continued and Castiel frowned at him. “You can’t just stick close to me when we’re at SRP! Either you’re not there at all or you’re caged.” Castiel’s frown deepened.

“Why?” he asked and Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Cas, it’s just that you’re not a human, okay? They don’t know what you are and they don’t know what you can do. They can’t trust you.”

“They should trust an angel,” Castiel reminded him and Dean sighed. He reached out and put his palm on Castiel’s smooth jaw.

“Cas, I do. Okay? I trust you. You mean well, but since you won’t interact with anybody else they can’t. You’ll just be a monster to them.” Castiel didn’t seem all too disturbed about that so Dean drew his fingers over Castiel’s lips. “Just… keep a low profile, okay? Your presence is making work at SRP even more awkward for me.”

“I understand,” Castiel said, but he was still frowning. Dean knew that he was being an ungrateful bastard, because Castiel obviously did everything just to please Dean and he couldn’t even appreciate it because a little suspicion, some throw away sentences about Dean’s loyalties (and about monster whores, but he had poured milk past its expiration date into Gorden’s coffee  for that one) and icy glares made Dean’s hair stand on edge. He didn’t care about Hunters, really, but he still didn’t want to be called a monster lover either, especially not when John returned. It was easier to just take a step back and pull himself (and Castiel) out of the line of fire.

Dean pulled the angel towards the car. Fortunately John was still not in town, researching something in another branch, so Dean took Castiel to the apartment.

“I’m gonna move out of here once I get my first pay-check. The SRP pays rather well and Grandma is generous too…,” Dean muttered, not expecting any sort of reply from the angel. Once the door to his room was locked and the blinds drawn, he turned back to Castiel and put his hands under the cardigan, splaying his fingers over Castiel’s chest. There was a steady heartbeat under his palms, far calmer than Dean’s was as he leaned over Castiel to capture his lips in a kiss. Here nobody would see what they were doing. Here he could kiss an alien creature and not worry about what that meant.

But once he had Castiel shoved on the bed, a mess of clothes and blankets all around him, he realized that Castiel had a hand on his chest.  

“What’s the matter?” Dean asked, sitting back so that the pressure on his chest eased up. Castiel’s hair was a mess and Dean realized that he must have pulled it.

“Dean…,” Castiel said with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered, but he bent down again the kiss Castiel. “Maybe I’m going too fast.”

“That’s not the issue, Dean,” Castiel said against his lips and Dean placed kisses down his chin and neck. “But do you want to do this with me?” Dean frowned up at him, squeezing Castiel’s sides. “With _me_ , Dean.” 

“What do you-“ Dean widened his eyes, the grip of his fingers loosening. “Oh…” Dean looked down at the beautiful creature. The wild black hair, the eyes that were dark now in the shadows of Dean’s room, the delicate hands, his beautiful face. All of this, Dean knew, was borrowed. All of this belonged to someone else. What Dean wanted… “I… I don’t know. I mean, you’re here. Right? I want to make out with you and fuck and stuff.” It was at least slightly amusing to watch a flush spread on Castiel’s cheeks even though he continued to look at Dean with a calm gaze. “And it’s you. I don’t know Jimmy. I just want to do these things to you.” Castiel shifted slightly underneath him, but he didn’t move away. Dean waited for a sign that Castiel was as into this as Dean was, but it didn’t come, so he sighed and rolled off him. Castiel moved to his side and shuffled closer until Dean pulled him in so that he could rest his head on Dean’s shoulder. “If I were sure,” Dean started, drawing his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “Would you do it? I mean… Don’t you have an angel boyfriend or girlfriend in Heaven?”

“That’s not how it works, Dean,” Castiel answered with a light chuckle, warm air over Dean’s collar bone. “I do have a mate though.”

“Uh-huh? Won’t she… or he… get angry if you’re… cuddling with me?” Dean wanted to know, casting a worried look upwards. He feared for more than just his eyes if Castiel’s mate was the jealous type.

“We don’t have the same emotional spectrum, Dean,” Castiel said, but Dean thought that wasn’t really an answer. “Nor do we form relationships like you do…” Dean shifted slightly, so he could turn his face to kiss Castiel again, just light touches to soft skin. “You should be safe.”

“ _Should_ be,” Dean repeated skeptically and Castiel smiled.

“He can be territorial,” Castiel admitted and Dean snorted, oddly enough feeling more challenged than intimidated.

“Fine then, just give me a warning when I appear on his smite radar,” he said, drawing his hands over Castiel’s chest. Castiel looked at him quizzically.

“What’s a smite radar?”

 

* * *

 

John was not indifferent to Dean packing his things and moving into his own apartment once the first paycheck came. Dean thought it was a liberating step away from him and even though he didn’t say so, John probably felt the same. John didn’t quite know how to fit his family back into the life of constant movement, constant anger at the supernatural world and constant worry. He knew that with Sam and Adam it had been best to draw this clear line that could never be overstepped. But Dean… Dean was special, he was cut out to be a legendary hunter. But it was difficult to say when Dean was his son and when Dean was a Hunter he had to train. So it was best to keep their interaction as fellow Hunters strictly SRP related.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t worrying about what Dean did when he couldn’t see him. Dean was far getting too friendly with this year’s most impressive monster. He was thus even more watchful over his son whenever he was working. That Castiel kept in his cage when Dean was at work, was at least one thing John was not critical of.

“We need to decide what to do with him,” John announced one day just as Dean wanted to go for a coffee break. He blinked at him in confusion and let John usher him back into his office. “He’s kept here for information, but so far you haven’t been able to get anything useful out of him.” Dean frowned at that, looking at the folder that was slowly but surely filling. He certainly had had far more success in learning things about Castiel and his species than any of the scientists and John. “Trivia, Dean,” John said derisively as if he knew exactly what Dean was going to say.

“What? What he told me wasn’t-“ Dean started to process but John cut him off.

“Even though we’ve kept most of Castiel’s presence here a secret, we’re getting pressured from various sides. His arrival was in the news and then there was the incident here with the demon. People are speculating. Everyone knows there’s something big holed up in SRP, even though none of my Hunters have been stupid enough to say just what it is. Other branches want access, zoo managers want to exhibit the angel and Bobby keeps nagging about getting that boy of his back.”

“Right. And what do you want me to do about it?” Dean asked, squaring his shoulders against John’s demanding glare. “Other big cases have been properly covered up, why don’t you make a bigger effort to do the same here? Lie about him until it blows over.” John took a step closer to Dean and Dean almost backed away.

“That’s not the main issue. Dean, if we don’t make him talk soon his custody will be transferred to Europe,” John said and Dean lifted his eyebrow.

“I thought treaties were as such that unless a claim had been made, a monster captured on American soil is American property,” Dean replied and he knew about the jurisdiction, but John shrugged. “They can’t just force a transfer unless Castiel has committed some sort of crime in Europe.”

“He’s an _angel_ , Dean, I can think of a lot of people over there being very interested in him,” John said and Dean frowned. He wasn’t quite sure if John was just trying to put pressure on him. He only had a vague understanding of the workings of outer-American hunting networks. Heck, even the Canadian one puzzled the hell out of him. But he had to remind himself of the fact that no matter what knowledge and tools the others had, Castiel couldn’t be hurt. John didn’t say any more but he did shoot Dean a look that floored him. It was dark and expectant and judging. It said “don’t embarrass me” and it said “I expect great things of you”. Dean just opened his mouth at John’s silence, but then he balled his hands into fists.

“Then what exactly do you want from me?” Dean challenged, even though he was almost shaking with anger.

“The vitals, Dean. How to identify, how to catch, how to dispose of,” John replied, knocking his knuckles against Dean’s table. “You mentioned a power source, we’ll have to get to that. If we can take it out, then we can take him down.” Dean took a deep breath, irritated how John picked up on even the most miniscule of detail left in a side-remark of a random mail. He wished John was that attentive when it came to what his sons needed.

 “I can’t ask Castiel for ways to kill his own kind. He won’t tell,” Dean told him, feeling stubborn in the face of his dad’s petulant small-mindedness.

“Then maybe you need to be a bit more persuasive,” John replied promptly and everything Dean wanted to tell him got blown out of his head.

“W… What?” he managed to force past the lump in his throat and the incredulity that made him sag back into his chair. John’s gaze was stormy and if it wasn’t equally as hard Dean would believe John to feel sorry about what he had just said. Dean dug his nails into his palms. They were sweaty. He felt sick. “I can’t torture an angel. Even if I knew how to hurt him I _couldn’t_! Shit, I thought you’d know that!” They had been over this, when John and he had stood in front of Alastair’s cage, Dean shaking and crying. John had been understanding then, he’d pulled the knife out of Dean’s tightly clenched fist, draped his leather jacket around Dean’s shoulders and took him home for grandma Campbell to perform the exorcism. He had given up the information they could have gained for the sake of his son.

And now he simply stared at Dean with expectation in his eyes.

“Dean, think about how valuable your work-“ Dean rose abruptly and glared at the table’s surface. John was quiet. This was it.

“No.” Dean said silently, then he looked up at his father. “No, I resign.”

He pushed past an unresisting John into the corridor. He didn’t stop until he had slammed his apartment door behind him. He tossed the badge onto the floor in a fit of rage, the mobile phone following when it started beeping.

His anger soon cooled and he stood shaking in his unlit apartment. The silence and the emptiness of the place was soothing and he almost laughed. Dean shook his head and dragged himself to his bed. He let himself fall backwards and put his arms over his face. Somehow he couldn’t quite work himself into feeling furious at his dad. Somehow, now that he was out of the SRP - for good, he swore to whatever deity cared to listen, this was it – he felt exhausted and slightly worried. If he was no longer part of SRP, what would happen to the angel?

He knew that the situation with Castiel couldn’t go on as it was forever. Castiel’s work was done here and Dean wasn’t even sure why he was sticking around. He didn’t want Castiel to go yet. His crush on the ethereal creature was less important to Dean than the fact that someone was there for him to listen and understand and not judge. For Castiel he was good and righteous and nothing he did was bad or wrong or disgracing. He validated him with a gentle look and patient silence. He didn’t want to lose that safety net of love to fall back on when he had a rough moment.

“Cas…” Dean said into the silence and the sound of wings was there a heart-beat later. Dean felt the bed dip and took his arms away to peek up at Castiel. “Hey, you creep. That was fast.”

“I noticed you running out of the building, but I was unsure if you wanted my company,” Castiel explained and Dean pulled at him so that he was flat on the bed next to him.

“I always want your company,” Dean admitted and got up on his knees so he could peer down at Castiel. At his soft black hair against the starch white of his pillow, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the dusting of pink on his cheeks. “God, you’re beautiful,” Dean muttered and leant down to kiss him. And one gentle kiss became another and another, suddenly desperate and ferocious.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel managed to ask even as he had his mouth ravished. “Dean.” Dean groaned and stopped, lowering himself again, half covering Castiel’s body.

“It’s just my dad,” he snorted, “he’s pushing me… about you… He even hinted that I should torture you for information.”

“Torture?” Castiel asked, “you don’t have the tools to torture me.” Dean sat up abruptly, because now he felt a spark of anger about this horrible situation with dad.

“I don’t _want_ to torture you! I don’t care if I have the tools or not! I don’t want to know what can cage you. I don’t want to know what can hurt you. And I certainly don’t want to know what can kill you!” he shouted but then he gave a start when Castiel actually smiled up at him. “What?”

“I find your strength and heart admirable,” he said and Dean took a moment before he actually knew how to react.

“I’m not, actually,” he said, “strong I mean. I’m a coward, Cas. I wanted to give in to Alastair because I was lonely and I ran out when dad’s shit got too much. Twice now.”

“So what?” Castiel countered, looking unconcerned and comfortable lying on Dean’s bed, with his lips kissed red. “In the end you didn’t torture. And even if you did, it wouldn’t make you unredeemable. You know what’s wrong and what’s right.” He reached out and touched Dean’s head, then his chest. “You know it. And even if you take your time to go against what you’ve been taught by your family and your environment, you still do. You walked out on your father today because he demanded things of you that you couldn’t do. And-“ Castiel was cut off by Dean kissing him. He pushed his tongue between the angel’s lips and his hand under his shirt. Castiel didn’t resist, moving against him, reacting to Dean. Smooth and soft, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and his legs around his hips at the smallest nudge.

And among the need for Castiel Dean felt odd and insecure about the body moving against his. He loved the soft texture of Castiel’s full lips and the elegant curve of his spine and his not too narrow hips. He loved the softness of his inner thighs when Dean started pulling him out of his jeans and the hairless smoothness of Castiel’s calf brushing at the strip of exposed skin between Dean’s jeans and shirt. But when he moved his palms over his chest it was different and moving groin against groin was different.

Dean knew that he found Castiel alluring and beautiful and he kissed and caressed, gripping bruises into Castiel’s legs and feeling the sharp hipbones and the soft arch of his ribcage, but… Dean lowered his head and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel wondered gently, but Dean shook his head, lifting his hands to stroke Castiel’s face and draw his fingers through his hair.

“I guess I’m still not sure,” was all Dean said and Castiel didn’t need to hear more to understand. “I mean… I’m pressuring you anyway. I don’t even know if you want to do anything with me!”

“I was enjoying it, but I don’t approach sex the same way a human would,” Castiel explained and Dean wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed or relieved. He was spared from thinking up a clever answer by the reassumed ringing of his mobile phone. Dean ignored it, as he did before until it went to the mail box. But it reassumed its ringing again and Dean sighed. Castiel got up when Dean didn’t move, pulling up his jeans and picking the phone off the floor.

“It reads Sam,” Castiel said as the ringing stopped and reassumed again. Dean sat up, frowning. He waved at Castiel to bring him the phone and Castiel put it into Dean’s hand. Somehow Dean’s throat felt dry and a heavy weight settled in his stomach. Sam didn’t usually call, not that insistent in any case. “Yes?”

_“Dean!! Man, I’ve been trying to reach you for almost twenty minutes!”_ Sam sounded agitated and breathless and Dean tensed further.

“Sammy…?”

_“It’s Mom… She collapsed. The doctors say… Dean, they say they don’t know what to do!”_ Dean could hear the fear in his brother’s voice even over the rush of his blood in his ears. _“I just wish you were here for this…”_

“I’m… I look what I can do, just… Where are you?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel and the angel tilted his head with a worried frown.

_“At home… She didn’t want to go to the hospital. She wanted to be home, Dean…”_ The wounded, high-pitched sound Sam made, drawing out his name, made Dean bite his lips.

“Sammy, everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see,” Dean said gently, even as he himself was tearing up. “Okay? Make yourself and Mom something warm to drink. Get her as comfortable as you can. And wait, okay? I’ll be there.”

_“O… Okay…”_ Sam muttered dejectedly and hung up after a moment of hesitation. As soon as Dean heard the click he turned around, his eyes wide and panicked.

“Cas, you’ve got to teleport me! Mary Winchester’s house in Palo Alto!” Castiel seemed surprised, but Dean grabbed his arms. “Can you do that?!” Castiel nodded silently and reached for Dean’s forehead. And just like that they were standing in Mary Winchester’s bed-room and Sam shrieked. If Dean wasn’t so worried he would have made fun of his brother, but right now he dashed to his mother. She was lying on the bed, thin and pale, an unnatural yellow glimmer shining through her eyelids. She wasn’t awake and her breathing was irregular. A closer glance revealed thin, pulsing red lines on her neck and chest, disappearing under her white nightgown.

“What’s happening?!” Dean shouted and looked at Sam, who shook his head helplessly.

“We all knew she was ill, but I didn’t know it was something supernatural! She never said anything! I found a number of protective hex bags and other really potent warding. But…” Sam broke off and looked at Castiel. “Who…? Is that your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean replied tensely, “he’s the reason I was called back to SRP.” Sam widened his eyes and took a step back. “Sam stop it, he’s not dangerous!” When he looked back down at his mother the red light had become stronger, little veins reaching up to her eyes. “Cas! What’s wrong with her?!” Castiel hesitated, but then he stepped towards the bed and put his hand on Mary’s forehead. Both brothers watched him pull his eyebrows down into a frown.

“It’s her soul. It’s…” he seemed to struggle to find a word. “Collapsing in on itself.”

“But… What? Why?!” Sam demanded to know and Castiel, as expected, ignored him. “Can’t you do something?!” Castiel moved his hand to Mary’s stomach and Dean watched with horror as his hands slipped into her as if she was not made out of flesh and bone. “What’s he doing?! Stop it!!” Sam shouted when Mary, despite being unconscious, gasped and started squirming weakly.

“Cas!!” Dean shouted, pulling at Castiel’s arm, but the angel was totally immovable. When he pulled his hand out again his expression was no longer stormy and confused.

“It seems that she made a pact years ago. Even though she was supposed to die after the ten years had passed, she’s managed to defend herself… But as a consequence her soul started being pulled out of her… There’s almost nothing left in her body…”

“A pact?! Mom made a demon pact?!” Sam shouted, dropping to his knees next to Mary’s bed. He grabbed her cold hand, squeezing it. “But why?!”

“Shit… So she’s going to die and go to hell?!” Dean asked but when Castiel looked at him his eyes were dark and regretful. “W… What is it?”

“Since the hellhounds couldn’t get to her, she’s being destroyed…,” Castiel told him and Dean felt like someone had punched him in the gut. His mother was dying. His mother was… He couldn’t stop the tears forming in his eyes and he turned to Castiel. He wanted to shout and command and beg, but he stopped when he saw how calm Castiel was. Calm and pale. Without a word he reached out and put his hand on Mary’s forehead. He closed his eyes slowly and Dean held his breath. Sam was silent too, just staring with tears running down his face. After a while Castiel opened his eyes again and took back his hand. Mary was still unconscious, but she looked peaceful. For a moment Dean thought that Castiel had killed her, that this had been his idea of mercy, but Mary was breathing.

“What… did you do?” Dean breathed, not daring to be too loud. Castiel looked at him and he seemed troubled.

“I healed her. A soul can’t actually be broken apart, it was still hovering around her, just in a different plane. The claim’s dissolved. She’ll be fine.” Castiel explained but something in his eyes and a defensiveness in his posture kept Dean from falling to his knees to express his gratitude.

“Are you…”

“Don’t concern yourself with it… It was my decision,” Castiel said and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean sprang into action as Sam gave a warning shout. Castiel swayed on his feet and he grabbed him before he could fall.

“Cas…? Castiel!!” Sam was next to Dean, helping him lower the unresponsive angel to the floor.

“What’s happening? What did he do?” Dean shook his head helplessly, trying to shake Castiel awake. There suddenly was a ringing in his ears, just like on that first day, when Castiel had not yet been in a vessel. It grew louder and louder and Dean bent over Castiel’s body. Sam was holding his ears, the windows rattling in their frames. Mary’s full-body mirror burst into tiny shards and Dean screamed over the roar:

“ _Yes!!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Castiel awoke with a deep breath, emerging from a lack of awareness for the very first time since her early days of existence. She could not see or hear, but she felt the presence of something holy, something overwhelming that almost was too terrible and beautiful to bear. After a moment she remembered to use her human vessel to open her eyes and found herself lying on a soft divan bed that stood in a beautiful room. She sat up, disoriented for a while, but then her eyes fell on another person.

Dean was sitting on a sturdy, mahogany table with intricate carvings. He seemed casual enough but his eyes shone a brilliant blue and held an incredible weight that made Castiel’s borrowed knees buckle when she attempted to stand and sent her back on the divan. She breathed deeply, shocked and surprised, but then she straightened, facing those eyes head-first.

“Michael.”

“Hello, Castiel,” the archangel replied, but made no move to approach. Castiel narrowed her eyes, looking at him for any signs of corruption. Michael’s power and Grace were overwhelming, it was a surprise that Dean wasn’t already burning. “You seem surprised to see me.”

“No, but I am surprised at your vessel.” Michael chuckled, a low, sensuous sound coming from Dean’s lips. Castiel felt a shiver go through her.

“He is a vessel, just like his brothers and his father,” he explained, “it’s no coincidence.” Castiel shook her head. That the Righteous Man could be an archangel’s vessel really wasn’t that surprising, but she hadn’t expected it. Especially not that it would be Michael.

“How did you get his consent?” she wondered and Michael slipped off the table, walking over to her. Castiel managed to stand up. Even if this was Michael, she wanted to look him in the eyes properly. No matter what he would do to her.

“I told him that if he said yes, I would not hurt you.” Castiel lowered her eyebrows.

“You lied to him?” Michael lifted his hand to put it against Castiel’s cheek. He slowly leant down until his face was close to hers.

“I don’t lie,” he told her and brushed his lips against Castiel’s forehead. “You have made a mistake, Castiel and you should be punished.” Castiel braced herself, but felt Michael slip his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his body. “But do you think me that heartless? Castiel, you are my brother and you are my mate. Let it be known that Michael will always shelter his beloved,” he vowed, his voice resonating loudly in the room, reaching up to the Host that replied in an acknowledging song before returning to being a soothing background noise in Castiel’s head. The Michael reached down to kiss her, not like Dean had. It reached into her, deeper, closer, his Grace slipping through the thin membrane of Jimmy’s flesh and radiated into her own. He drew back and winked. “Like when you were a silly child. Don’t think I forgot that episode where you started singing praise to distressed cavemen.” Castiel looked at him with wide eyes. “You have a lot of heart, Castiel… And I won’t punish you for caring enough about a human to take on the risk of being destroyed.” He took a step back, but his hands still rested on Castiel’s hips.

“Michael… I thank you for your generosity,” she replied, hearing her voice weak and quivering, and lowered her head in deference.

“You will have to return to Heaven though and you might not be back in Dean Winchester’s lifetime,” Michael told her and she nodded, her heart heavy despite Michael’s kindness, “I will let you say good-bye. You have until tomorrow.” Michael kissed her again and then she was faced with a startled and frantic Dean.

“Cas! Are you okay?!” Castiel smiled at him and it seemed to calm him enough to be able to take in his surroundings. They didn’t inspire more than a confused frown though.

“I’m alright. Thank you, Dean, that you volunteered your body to help me,” she said gently and Dean blinked at her, before he lowered his eyes and shrugged. “You are the vessel of an archangel. This is astonishing and another testament to your worth.”

“He didn’t really introduce himself… Or I didn’t hear him next to all that window shattering noise. So that was an archangel?” Dean sounded flippant enough, but Castiel felt his hands, that still rested on her hips, tremble.

“Michael,” Castiel told him, “he is the leader of Heaven.” Dean nodded almost absent mindedly and Castiel reached out, bringing him back to Mary Winchester’s house. “He’s also my mate.”

“Your mate?!” That got Dean’s attention, as well as Sam’s and Mary’s.

“Dean! There you are!” Sam shouted and almost ran Dean over with the force of his hug. Mary was a little more sensible in her expression of relief.

“Yeah, I was momentarily hijacked by… shit, by Castiel’s husband!”

“Michael’s not my husband, he’s my mate,” Castiel reminded him, but then she fell silent when both Sam and Mary’s eyes were on her. Mary was the first to stir. She slowly rose from her bed and approached her with wonder in her eyes. She lifted her arms and reached out to touch Castiel, but then held herself back.

“He doesn’t bite,” Dean whispered and Mary hushed her son, before she did put her hand on Castiel’s cheeks.

“You must be Castiel, the angel,” she said reverently and Castiel nodded. “I heard I owe you my life…”

“You’re welcome,” was all Castiel could think of saying and Dean had to laugh.

“Mom… What happened? Did you really make a demon pact?” Dean wanted to know and Mary lowered her hands. Apparently her expression was enough of an answer for Dean. “But why?” he asked with a wince.

“Baby,” she started and looked at Dean, “Do you remember the accident when you were 12?” Dean nodded. “You were dying… So I made the pact and you lived.” Dean blanched, his hand going to his chest where a healthy heart was beating quickly under his palm.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Mom! There’s,” Dean bit his lips and shook his head, “a natural order of things! It was my time to die!” Castiel smiled silently and lifted her hand to put it on Dean’s shoulder.

“No, Dean… It wasn’t your time to die,” she told him, “the reaper could have taken you, despite your mother’s deal.” Then she turned to Mary and Sam. “I have to leave you now.” Dean made a sound of protest, but Castiel continued: “I am glad that I could be of help.”

“But, I have so many things I want to ask you!” Sam argued.

“There will be time enough to speak to me when you are in Heaven.  But if you pray on a Thursday, you can be sure that I listen to you,” she promised and Sam flustered, but nodded.

“Thank you, Castiel,” Mary said with a warm, grateful smile and she nodded at her. Then she turned back to Dean.

“Do you want to stay here or go back to Kansas?” Dean looked torn, but Mary waved at him, so he nodded.

“I’ll go back to Kansas. Last night on earth, Cas! We have to do something nice!” he said and waved at his family. Castiel pressed her fingers to Dean’s forehead and they were gone.

 

* * *

 

Jimmy felt excitement in his sleepy state, a gentle heat of echoing touches.

It was different than with Amelia. Amelia with her already thin body, her strong hands and gentle curves. She had sharp angles underneath which he felt when they crushed their hips together. Hidden things he craved.

He didn’t want to leave her feeling empty. He tolerated the slippery heat around him, he tolerated that part of himself that could slide so perfectly into the body of the women he adored. And he fit, he knew it was good. But it wasn’t what he needed. She didn’t touch him where he needed it. She didn’t kiss down his chest, she didn’t touch that itch so deep inside of him. She was happy with the thrust of his body into her own. But he wasn’t. He was hollowed out and just a shaking shell when the sharp flare of ecstasy was blown away. It hurt deep down in his chest, some secret, barely shared knowledge rattling in his ribcage with every breath he took. Amelia worried a bit when he had tears in his eyes and his breath was stuttering with a different kind of emotion than bliss. She held him and maybe she chose to take it as him being overwhelmed. She didn’t ask questions. He didn’t have to put words to it.

There was movement between Castiel’s thighs and a gentle weight pressing down on his chest. Jimmy startled into awareness, seeing out of the eyes of Castiel, right into the slightly flushed face of Dean Winchester. And he was beautiful, a sight that Jimmy would not have expected hovering above him. A sight that stepped out of dreams speaking of desires he didn’t want to indulge in. Jimmy couldn’t move, because even though he saw and felt, he was still wrapped around in light and arms and miles and miles of feathers. He felt the soft sensation of Dean’s mouth against Castiel’s, tingling on his own lips and leaving him hungry. Castiel’s feathers brushed against him when Jimmy curled into himself. He didn’t want to see or feel this. He didn’t want to desire.

 

* * *

 

Dean pressed his face against Castiel’s neck and kissed him. There was nothing to do, but to stay in bed and wait for the day to pass. He had bought dinner for them both, but Castiel’s mouth tasted clean and fresh, no lingering flavor of the small bites of a burger and pie Dean managed to coax him into taking. Everything about Castiel was soft and warm and so they kissed and moved against each other without any urgency, fully clothed on Dean’s bed.

“Dad will throw a fit,” Dean muttered between sucking a quickly fading bruise to the side of Castiel’s throat and kissing along the collar of his shirt. He didn’t really care about his father. He wasn’t a Hunter, it wasn’t his problem. “I guess I’ll just work for my Grandmother until I’ve decided what to do… Maybe go back to college…” Dean talked and talked and Castiel simply listened.

He didn’t get much sleep in between thinking, kissing and an embarrassing, half-asleep moment of excitedly rubbing his hard-on against Castiel. The angel had merely chuckled when Dean groaned his horrified apologies, so Dean had continued, this time aware, jerky little movements against the nice curves of Castiel’s jean’s clad ass, and trailing kisses down Castiel’s neck. There was no point in trying to figure out what this meant about his attractions. Castiel would be gone soon and this would be over.

Once morning finally dawned, Dean’s heart was beating violently up to his throat.

“Should we go to the SRP?” Dean wondered and Castiel looked at him. “I mean, where will you be picked up?”

“Anywhere. We don’t have to leave your house,” he said and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t feel like going anywhere. Getting himself into a decent shape to face the day had already been quite a hassle.

“What will happen to you when you leave?” Dean asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Nothing will happen to me, Dean. Michael won’t harm me,” he assured him. “Being called back to Heaven is not a real punishment.”

“I’d just hate it if you got hurt because of me,” Dean said and Castiel shook his head. “Hey, was Michael angry…? I mean about me pawing his mate?” Because if he was angry then, Dean probably was the target of the archangel’s heavenly wrath for the rest of his life by now.

“He didn’t say anything,” Castiel answered, “as the leader of Heaven he’s rather self-assured. I doubt he felt threatened by you.” Dean’s slightly disgruntled frown got a smile out of Castiel.

“He must be quite a catch, I mean, leader of Heaven sounds rather important,” Dean said with a snort and drank his coffee.

“Well… we chose each other despite our ranks. I’ve never thought about why…” Castiel answered and Dean had to laugh. It was kind of odd talking about relationships with him.

“You chose each other?” Castiel nodded.

“It’s not like Michael can just claim anyone, because he’s Heaven’s leader. I could have refused him, despite my inferiority, but it was a mutual claim,” he explained.

“If you’re into each other then that’s great,” he said and Castiel thought about that for a moment.

“Were you into me?” Dean frowned, but there wasn’t any point in being shy now. Castiel would soon be gone, maybe forever.

“I guess… I’ll certainly miss you… But I don’t know… Your vessel’s quite eye-catching but I couldn’t quite…” He made a vague movement with his hand and Castiel tilted his head. “Get into it as much as I would have liked to, you know? It was also odd because I knew that what I was touching wasn’t really you.”

“So you’re into Jimmy then?”

“Uh… I don’t know?” Castiel nodded, curiosity apparently satisfied. “Hey, Cas?” The angel looked at him with raised eyebrows and Dean had to cough to get his voice to function. “You know… Thanks…” There was so much he wanted to say, so much gratitude he wanted to express, but he just didn’t know how. But he didn’t need to. Castiel understood.

“You’re welcome,” he said, then he lifted his head and Dean’s heart fell.

“Is it time?”

“Yes…,” Castiel said and Dean gave a start when all his electronic things suddenly sprung to life. “Michael, quiet please.” The things switched off again and Dean laughed uncomfortably.

“Hey Michael…,” he greeted awkwardly and his toaster spat out the slices. They weren’t even charred, maybe that was a good sign. Castiel stepped close to Dean and lifted his arms.

“Thank you, Dean Winchester. I will forever cherish the memory of the weeks I spent with you,” he said and embraced Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around him and held on, resting his chin on Castiel’s head. “Good bye. We will see each other again.” Castiel let go of him after a long moment to press a kiss on Dean’s lips and Dean returned it, but then there was bright, warm light and when Dean opened his eyes again, he was alone.

He sighed deeply and leant against the kitchen counter. “I’ll be waiting…” He whispered into the silence of his apartment. He was sure though that Castiel was listening. It was a Thursday after all.

 

**Epilog**

Jimmy felt like he was thrown into cold water and he was gasping and shivering and waving his arms about. There was nothing but air he hit, but then his hand smashed against something and the sound of glass bursting made him snap his eyes open. He was in a room, his bedroom. Everything was how he left it, neat and abandoned, except the broken picture frame lying on the floor. He picked it up, his chest still heaving as if breathing air was difficult. It was the picture of him, Amelia and Bobby, when he had taken both out for dinner. He remembered it well, he remembered the smiles and Bobby’s pat on the shoulder, kissing her, her hands guiding him. He remembered his panic and how he hid it behind a grin. He remembered how desperately he had wanted to make her happy and be happy as well. Only two months later, he had given up. He remembered it well.

Jimmy put the picture on the bedside table and looked at his bedroom. He had expected to give his body and not have it returned. But here he was. Back in the room he hadn’t thought he’d see again. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Jimmy.” He gave a start when the voice whispered to him, but it was familiar enough.

“Castiel!”

“You have served me well, you have my gratitude,” the voice said and Jimmy lowered his head. Castiel’s warm, gold light started filling his bedroom, a soothing presence, wrapping around Jimmy. It had a wonderful body, pure and loving. Jimmy felt a longing for how easy it had been to just bask in its warmth.

“I… But… I thought you would keep me,” he said almost helplessly and felt Castiel tighten its hold on him.

“I can’t stay,” Castiel told him, “and it’s not your time to lay yourself to rest yet.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Jimmy confessed, lowering his head.

“I am allowed to reward you,” Castiel replied and Jimmy frowned, “if you really wish to leave this world, I will take you. But maybe I can change you, so you may find joy in living on.”

“Change me?” Jimmy lifted his head, seeing his reflection in the mirror above his dresser, surrounded by golden light like a halo. “You mean… you’d change my body for me?”

“Yes… If it’s what you want. If it helps you.” Jimmy put his hands to his head, dragging his fingers through his hair. Is that what he wanted? To allow himself to be a woman? Fully and truly? He didn’t know. He didn’t know if it would change anything. Or if he would still feel out of place in his own body.

“I…,” Jimmy started, insecure, even as Castiel hovered around him patiently.

“I will give you time to think. I don’t need to be here to change you. But, Jimmy… You need to be sure,” it said and Jimmy wiped his hand over his face.

“Okay… I’ll call you if I know,” he said and felt Castiel’s warmth slowly seeping away.

“Do it on a-“

“Thursday, yes, I know,” Jimmy said with a small smile. Before the room was completely dimmed, he lifted his head again. “Hey, the thing with you and Dean Winchester… Was I just dreaming that?”

“No.” There was a chuckle in Castiel’s voice that made Jimmy laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh… Oh, good,” he admitted, remembering the flush that couldn’t hide the freckles and the color of his eyes. It was a good memory to have. “I will leave you now. Thank you, Jimmy.”

“You’re welcome… Good-bye,” he whispered and the room was cold and dark again. Jimmy shivered and pushed his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t wearing his suit anymore. Jimmy turned away from his room, but tight jeans and a cardigan and he vaguely thought to remember that it was Dean who had bought it for him. Jimmy smiled, turning away from the mirror. He had to call Bobby.

 

* * *

 

Dean handed in his badge the first thing next morning and decided to work for his grandmother until he could return to school. Despite Dean’s expectations, his father wasn’t angry, especially not after he received a call from Mary. Dean even caught him muttering a thanks when next Thursday came round and John invited him to “I’m sorry for being a shitty dad, I am proud of you for going back to college” dinner. It was oddly pleasant and even though Dean was weary around his father for quite a while longer, it was okay. Dean was done with trying to be a Hunter, he was done trying to become an efficient copy of his father. And it was easier; to go fishing with Dad, invite him to some of his experimental (but surprisingly tasty, even dad had said so) cooking or just  visiting every Wednesday evening to enjoy an episode of Dr. Sexy. They didn’t talk about monsters much, unless John needed something out of the Campell archive. This was great.  It was closure.

Even though Dean and Castiel had only shared a few weeks together, Dean missed him. He missed him when he was working in the Campbell library, he missed him when he drove in his car, he missed him when he was in a diner and he missed him when he went to sleep. It was like not being able to see a friend you grew incredibly close to. There was a dark hole full of immobilizing longing for someone he couldn’t reach.

And then, one day, his doorbell rang. Dean opened it and found himself face to face with Jimmy Novak.

“Hey,” she said, a shy but bright smile stretching her pink lips and her eyes shining. “You promised me a burger?” Dean laughed, incredulous and surprised.

“Yeah… Yeah, sure! Let me just grab my jacket!” he said, pulling the jacket off the hook, then they were out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of thougth went into the question of where to end this story. It had a rather lengthy epilogue set ten years after the events, but I liked the sentiment of this ending, so I cut it off.
> 
> Which is a pity because I did want to tell you about how Dean finished college, but still ended up being the director of the Campbell archives or how Jimmy and Dean kinda failed at dating the first couple of tries or how Castiel does come back after all (but just for a short time, because Michael feels like blowing up distant planets if he has to deal with the new generation of angels all on his own) ;D


End file.
